


Relic Keel

by lumosinlove



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drinking, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, F/M, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Light drug use, M/M, Orphanage, Other, Slow Burn, Smut, Violence, mentioned: past death of a father, pining. just....so much of it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:06:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 36,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28391376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lumosinlove/pseuds/lumosinlove
Summary: Everyone needs something, especially on Hogwarts Island. But getting and wanting are two different things, especially where love and hate are involved. The inhabitants of The Hollow and Godric have never gotten along...but could wanting and needing bring them together? Could a lost treasure?
Relationships: James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Leo Knut/Finn O'Hara/Logan Tremblay (lumosinlove), Marlene McKinnon/Dorcas Meadowes, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 82
Kudos: 554





	1. part i

**Author's Note:**

> This story includes some of my OCs, originally created in my other fic, Sweater Weather and Coast To Coast. You DO NOT NEED TO HAVE READ SW AND C2C FOR THIS STORY TO MAKE SENSE...but if you want to know where they originated, I'd give them a read :)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Map of Hogwarts Island: https://lumosinlove.tumblr.com/post/639214603198464000/some-people-were-asking-for-a-repost-of-the-map

Luke was ruining it all.

Saint was a waste of space.

Marlene was trapped.

Dorcas was drifting.

James was in love.

Lily was in denial.

Finn was saving.

Logan was losing.

Leo was waiting.

Sirius was looking.

Remus was going mad.

And the island held them all, and told them this.


	2. part i

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings in end notes

Sirius woke up with the sun for one reason only. He wanted to see the far off, white sails of Lupin’s boat.

Some people came to Hogwarts Island for the yearly trade show in Helga. Some people came for the resorts. Some came for the waves, perfect for surfing. Some came for the history.

If Sirius hadn’t already lived there his entire life, he would have come for those white sails. But he’d always been here. This island didn’t let many go. Not even Lupin’s boat truly went. It always stayed in view, never even close to a dot on the horizon. Sirius only ever saw the tourists really leave. And they didn’t count. They were strangers.

Sirius pushed himself up from the mattress he’d dumped on the floor one day and never bothered with again, and glanced at Saint, who had fallen asleep on the porch hammock. A book was clutched to his chest. James got them for him, from the island bookstore or his father’s library. Anything he wanted. He even told Saint to keep them sometimes, but Saint never would.

“If I’ve read it, I’ve got it up here,” Saint would say. “I don’t need people asking questions about how I got them anyway.”

“Tell them the truth,” James would say. “I got them for you.”

Saint would just laugh. Everything about Saint was sunny, all the way down to his honey brown skin and bright smile, his golden hair and his amber eyes. Sometimes his laughs weren’t though. Sometimes things about Saint promised storms.

“Or one of the Gods,”—a Hollow word for Godric’s inhabitants— “could say I stole them,” Saint would always reply. “And it’d be all over from there for _this_ St. Clair.”

St. Clair was the name given to all the kids of the island who didn’t have one. It was the name of Godric’s church and orphanage, and Saint Clair was the saint of the island. They thought they were doing a nice thing, giving orphans a name.

The Hallow called him _Saint_ because he _wasn’t_ one, though, and that was why Saint liked it. He wasn’t a St. Clair. He was no saint. No one was.

“Pretty fun,” Saint would laugh. “To be known for what you’re not.”

“Not to mention,” was another one of his sayings, “I get to go around telling all the people of the island that they can worship me in bed.”

Only Sirius knew his real name.

Hogwarts Island had four neighborhoods. Hot all year round, and just off the coast of Guadeloupe in the French territory of the West Indies Islands.

 _Your island paradise!_ said the sign on the main port dock in Rowena.

Sirius had spray painted that sign. More than once. Saint liked to replace the _dice_ with _site_ , just to freak people out a little. The tourists took pictures of it anyway, and then of each other. Zinc covered faces, or barely covered girls on spring break. It didn’t matter. They would all be gone in, at most, two weeks. Hogwarts was small, and the neighborhoods kept to themselves. Tourists were both a part of and outside the dynamic.

First, and northward, there was Godric. Money, money, money. Great manors lined the streets, built in the days of French occupation. They were still mostly filled with the old families—Potter, Lupin, McKinnon, Evans, Deveaux. Sirius always swore that more money went to these peoples’ golf courses and gardens and swimming pools than to food and water. It was also where the main hotels were. Griffin Beach was lined with villas and hotels and resorts, all either pointing outwards towards the endless ocean, or inwards, towards the pools and bars and Gryffindor Golf course.

In the western part of the island was Rowena. Rowena was where the island’s port was. It was where the tourists came in, only to get swindled into paying too much for crappy hotels, for their drinks, and for surfboard rentals.

To the East lay Helga. Anything anyone needed, they found it in Helga. Rows and rows of the finest craftsmen. Helga held the other part of Hogwarts’ main income. What the tourists didn’t cover, Helga’s treasures and their yearly trade show did.

Finally, there was Salazar. The snake of the South, people called it, because it wound all the way out to the skinniest, most pointed part of the island. Salazar was equal part money and dirt. Salazar held more old families, more old money. _The Montagues and Capulates_ , Saint liked to say, the _Jets and Sharks_. Lestrange, Carrow, Meadowes. Black. The houses, Gothic and looming and built within inches of each other, were the maze of the drug dealers. One quarter of it, at least. Normally, Sirius Black would have nothing but hatred for his home arrondissement, the one he hadn’t re-entered in almost seven years now, for fear of never escaping again, but Salazar had produced Dorcas, after all. And Dorcas was one of Sirius’ closest friends. Doras gave Salazar, if not a redeemable image, proof that it wasn’t a complete hell-hole. There were rarely any cross-over. Godrics stuck to Godric, Salazars to Salazar, and so on. Unless there was trouble.

But then there was The Hollow. It was a sliver of a place, right on the northern-most shoreline. Ironically placed beside Griffin Beach, just outside of Godric. A small slice of land dedicated to…no one really knew who. Runaways, like Sirius? Do-what-you-wants, like Dorcas? Godric-rich-boy-looking-for-a-thrill, like James? Or had you been born there, like Saint?

To the island, they were like the poor of Ancient Rome, slanting wood against the outside of the city’s walls for shelter. But it didn’t feel that way. Not to the people inside.

Some knew what they had done to end up there. Some didn’t. Everyone knew that was it though. You didn’t make it out of The Hallow. Saint liked to say that you had to make it _in_. Like some A-lister Godric club. A tangle of too low wires, stollen cable, junk yards and thatched, patched houses. More surfboards outside of houses than cars.

They called their little piece of wood leant against the Roman wall Grimmauld Place. _Grim old place,_ in French. Sirius didn’t know why. It wasn’t grim to him. It had always been called that, forever, named by just another somebody that no one knew. A shelter, gorgeous and haphazard, built by different inhabitants over the years, that was half on the ground and half in the trees. Rope ladders, rope bridges. Spirals and spirals of it. Warm, hanging lanterns all the way up into the branches of the biggest oak tree Sirius had ever seen. Like fireflies. None of Godric’s window screen mania. You wanted the sun on your face, you wanted the ocean breeze, you’d deal with a few mosquitoes. Sirius knew that the sun, the sand between his toes, his friends, just a level below…it was worth it. He’d never forget the first time he’d seen it, Saint looking over the railing, much younger, and telling him to fuck off. He’d take it over the dark halls he had grown up in any day.

Sirius planted his feet on the floor and pushed himself up, going to the sink for a glass of water and so he could stare out the window some more. There it was. Sirius loved that boat. The sailor sailed it like they were trying to escape, too. Only, Sirius couldn’t think of a reason a Lupin would want or need to escape. He’d seen their house plenty of times, almost everyday when he went to work at the Potter’s. But that boat…it didn’t fit anything else about the Gods, except perhaps that they could afford it. Sirius loved that boat, he loved its billowing sails, and the looping script reading, _Wolfsbane_ , its name, across the side.

The sky was just beginning to give up dawn, and Sirius wanted to be closer.

He put his glass down and shoved his feet into his flip-flops. Saint was closer to falling out of his hammock now, and dappled in the pale light between palm trees. Sirius gave the hooked fabric a kick, and Saint flailed awake.

“Fucker,” Saint said, one eye open and voice groggy.

“I can’t sleep,” Sirius said. “Let’s go do something.”

“What time is it?”

“Almost dawn.”

It was all Sirius needed to say. Saint threw a hand over his eyes before rolling to his feet and stretching his back. Sirius stared out over one of the railings of Grimmauld and all he could see was ocean. He looked for his boat, his white-sailed perfect thing, and then turned away. He’d have time to watch again at the beach.

The Hollow was grand to Sirius, mostly because it was the farthest away from Salazar that one could get. At this point, Godric, as much as Sirius hated it, felt like a point of protection. If Salazars hated the Godrics, they’d hate having to go through them to get to the Hollow even more. But the Hollow was great for other reasons.

Shack Beach was theirs. No tourists. No villas or hotels that shooed you away from the private bars and lounge chairs. It was empty, and so it was full. And the _waves_. Oceanic rollers that pushed you up, that let you get your feet under you, or forced you down beneath the surface in a tumble of salt and sand. Not so great during a hurricane, but glorious for this.

Sirius hefted his board under his arm before throwing it into the sand and stretching his arms back, then up above his head. Saint was doing the same beside him, his wooden, sea-soaked cross hanging around his neck.

“D’accord, Black,” Saint said. “Wagers?”

“Whoever gets the most air has to play lookout for Dorcas,” Sirius said. “And dinner.”

“High stakes,” Saint whistled lowly. “Fine.” Saint’s smile was sharp. “ _Go_.”

They took off at a run.

The water, although warm, was the shock Sirius needed. Saint beside him, as always, and the unknown weight of creatures and water below them. It was terrifying and thrilling. The ocean floor was dark this early, but Sirius stared down at it anyway as they sat on their boards, waiting. They didn’t need light for this part anyway. Sirius could recognize the telltale pull of the tides in his sleep.

“Oh,” Saint drew out the sound, tilting his head back. “I feel it, baby.”

Sirius turned wordlessly back towards the shore, Saint following with a flash of a smile, as they began to paddle. Sirius felt the lift, the curl, heard the water begin to rush and rush, faster and faster. The water kissed his feet and hands. Sirius jumped himself up and let out a long _whoop_ , laughing as he gained his footing with a few twirls before pushing himself up towards the crest. He curled around the top of the wave and there was the _Wolfsbane_ again, just for a moment, before it disappeared to the sea again. Sirius, for a moment, had felt like he was sailing beside it, with it.

They could stay out there for hours, always had been able to, but Sirius had work soon. They went until Sirius felt thoroughly salt-drenched, lips parched. Dragging their boards, they collapsed together in a small thicket of palm trees, up the beach a little. It was like a small cave of bark and wind-rustled leaves. There were still a few stars visible, and Sirius closed one eye and connected them with his finger.

“Dipper?” Saint said.

“Just Orion,” Sirius sighed and dropped his hand. “We learned that in school.”

Saint snorted. “When’s the last time we went to school?”

“True,” Sirius laughed, then, “You should steal the _Wolfsbane_ for me."

Saint looked over at him. “What is it with you and the Lupins’ boat?”

Sirius just shrugged. He didn’t know. “I miss sailing, maybe.”

“You know Kris will let you take one of his out at the marina,” Saint replied.

“I don’t want to get him in trouble. He already lends us the motorboat, anyway.”

“You’re _all_ trouble,” Saint said, and then he knocked their ankles together when they had been quiet for a few moments.

“Well?” he asked quietly as the sun began to warm them.

Sirius turned to look at Saint, sand in his hair. He laughed. They both knew what that meant.

“That sort of day, huh?” Sirius said.

“I’m asking for you,” Saint said. “I can go wherever I please, Dorcas has Marlene, but you…” Saint made a tisking sound. “Oh, Sirius Black. You lonely creature of the sea.”

Sirius scoffed. “You’re always so romantic.”

“Come on,” Saint propped himself up on an elbow and pressed a warm palm to Sirius’ bare chest. “It’s nice. It’s nice because we know each other.”

“Why do you always do this to me in public places?”

Saint raised an eyebrow and looked around the empty sands.

Sirius knew Saint could feel his chest rising and falling beneath his hand, knew that if he dragged it down some he would feel Sirius stirring in his swim trunks. Saint was his best friend. It was easy with Saint. There was no risk of losing Saint. Except maybe to Saint Clair, but they never went to Salazar, and Salazar had yet to come to them.

“Come here,” Sirius sighed, as if he was entirely put upon, and Saint made a pleased noise and leaned down for a kiss. He tasted like the sea, salty and smooth. Sirius pressed a hand to his back, coated with sand.

“Sandy hand jobs,” Sirius grumbled into his mouth. “My favorite.”

“There’s no sand in my mouth,” Saint breathed out and threw a leg over Sirius’ hips, mouth moving down to suck at Sirius’ neck. Sirius let his eyes close, hand squeezing around one of Saint’s strong shoulders.

“That’s true,” he said.

The barely there light in the sky cast Saint’s skin in blue, his light curls taking on the color, too as he kissed down Sirius’ chest, whose breathing was coming faster. He bit playfully at Sirius’ hip when he reached the band of his swim shorts and Sirius laughed, hitting his head lightly.

“We gotta go soon.”

“So?” Saint looked up with one of his sharp smiles, his freckles sprinkling his brown skin and honey eyes.

Sirius did love Saint. They loved each other, in their own way. For a long time now, they had been all each other had. Some type of love had to grow out of that. It just had to.

He was warm and felt safe as Saint’s mouth slipped over him, nursing him slowly. Sirius threaded his fingers into Saint’s salt-tangled hair and let his head loll back in the sand.

Sirius didn’t relax often. Saint knew that because he was the same, even if he pretended he wasn’t. The closest Sirius got, besides this, was in the ocean. Something to focus on. Something to look for and be careful about. Something to love.

He breathed out slowly, trying to quiet his mind and pass all his attention to Saint. He was stiffening quickly to full hardness from the wet heat, and his hands in Saint’s hair moved with his movements, sounds soft.

Sirius let himself stare out at the ocean again. The _Wolfsbane_ was filled with wind, the double pontoons tilted so that one was a little ways out of the water. He could only barely make out the sailor’s silhouette. He didn’t know which Lupin it was. They was skilled though, very skilled. Sirius would do anything to have a sailboat of his own that he could take out every single day. He envied the sailor.

It didn’t take him long to come, not with Saint knowing his body so well. Soon, he was open mouthed, back arching as Saint pulled his orgasm from him.

Saint smiled when he leaned back, sitting on his heels and tucking Sirius back inside his shorts. “Worship me yet?”

“Always,” Sirius panted. “What do you want?”

“Have you _seen_ your mouth?”

Sirius hummed and surged up to kiss him before knocking him back into the sand. They wrestled, rolling and laughing together in the dune, before settling with Sirius on top, hands pinning Saint’s wrists.

“Go on,” Saint grinned, then parroted, “ _we gotta go soon._ ”

“So romantic.”

Sirius reached into Saint’s suit and took his cock, hot and throbbing into his hands, biting his lip at the way Saint’s mouth dropped open. Saint really was beautiful. Sirius thought there must be something wrong with him to not want him in the way that he should.

“Life’s not too bad,” Saint sighed after, as Sirius rolled to lay next to him again. “Island. Surfing. Sex. We’re basically The Beach Boys.”

Sirius laughed. “Basically.”

Saint made a disgruntled noise. “Is it weird that we aren’t in love?”

“Yeah,” Sirius replied. “It sort of is.”

“Do you wish we were?” Saint looked at his profile.

Sirius returned his gaze, their noses close. He nodded, sand shifting in his ear. “Sometimes.”

“Gosh, we suck.”

“We really do,” Sirius patted near where Saint’s swimsuit was still askew. “Literally.”

Saint let out a loud laugh, pulling his trunks up, and Sirius a long groan.

“Gotta go to work.”

“Poor baby,” Saint said.

“You _also_ have to go to work.”

“Poor me.”

“You also owe me dinner. And your Dorcas’ look out. I won.”

Saint sat up. “Then I gotta go to work.”

Sirius smiled and looked back out over the waves. The white sails were pushing back West, towards Lupin House to dock. He’d have to wait until tomorrow to see them filled and tilting again.

~

Dorcas slung her backpack on while Saint all but forced the Jeep into park. She hopped out of the door-less side and turned to grin at him, elbows resting against the hot metal of the rusty blue sides.

“One hour,” Saint said, already kicking his seat backwards and pulling out his earbuds. “Then I have work. Don’t think I won’t leave you here.”

“You’re a saint, baby, really.”

Saint flicked his sunglasses down over his eyes. “Don’t I know it.”

Dorcas waved him off before jogging lowly around the back of the McKinnon’s gardens, skirting the gate until she found the bent out posts. She threw her backpack through first, before sliding through herself on her stomach. The manicured grass stained her tank top green in places, but Marlene wouldn’t care. Marlene was an angel. Dorcas was positive.

Marlene’s father, not so much.

Dorcas kept away from the vast windows until she could pull herself up one of the drain pipes that led straight to Marlene’s bedroom window. She crouched, sneakers wedged against roof tiles, and tapped on the glass.

At first, all Dorcas could see through the window was Marlene’s familiar bedroom, the sunlight partially reflecting herself back at her, her chin length dark hair, backwards hat and tank top. In the rest, Marlene’s bright walls, once white but now covered with posters and Marlene’s paintings. Concert posters, random letters from the Hollow’s old abandoned movie theater marque that Dorcas had brought her, and the oil paint in swirling shapes or stroked to form friends’ faces. Dorcas saw her own face many times, and the sight was warmer than the hot sun.

Then, Marlene was there, blonde hair falling over her shoulders. She pressed her forehead to the warm glass briefly before pushing the window, sticking with the heat, open.

“Hi, sweetheart,” Dorcas said.

“D,” Marlene sighed, and pulled her in.

Marlene was an angel. Dorcas was sure.

~

Saint felt uneasy in Godric. He probably always would. He kept his earbuds in, but tapped off beat and nervously, glancing back at the McKinnon house every once in a while. All these houses looked the same. The lawns were so green that they rivaled the sea, aqua and glimmering in the sunlight. He didn’t like that. He didn’t like the women, seemingly ever out for a morning speed-walk with each other, died blonde hair piled high on their heads, who stopped to ask, _Do you do lawns? What about pools?_

Saint merely slid his sunglasses off, smiled at them, and they were lost. Their eyes went bright, their mouths giggly. _Boy from The Hollow_ , they would whisper to their friends later, _so sad to waste such a face—_

Saint had always been beautiful. He knew that. But it didn’t matter so much when you were from where he was. In Godric, beauty was key. Anywhere else, it was a waste.

And then they’d see his neck. The cross with the _7_ singed there, hanging around his neck.

 _Oh,_ they’d gasp, _oh, sweetheart, you’re one of those St. Clair Church orphans aren’t you?_

A waste. A waste.

The nuns— _waste of space, wasteofspacewasteof—_

Saint hated the Godric men, with their linen pants and green juices. Walking their property lines and greeting each other each morning, like Roman elite on their _salutatio_.

Saint was here for Dorcas, who for some reason had decided to love one of those men and women’s daughters. He could never.

That was the surest way to be a waste. Why love them? Why love anyone who was raised like this? By these people?

There was an excitement that came with The Hollow for the Godrics. A strange fascination, animal and exotic. Marlene, to her credit, didn’t have it. She loved Dorcas, too. James Potter…Saint liked James well enough. But both he and Marlene could still go home every night. They didn’t live it. Not like Dorcas, not like Sirius, not like himself.

 _Yes,_ Saint would say. _I do lawns. I clean pools._

Saint grinned sweetly. Sultry.

He’d also steal their favorite gold necklace.

~

“So, Remus, what do you plan to do with yourself this summer, sweetheart?”

Remus looked across the dining room table at his parents. His mother was looking at him expectantly, knife and fork poised, and his mind had still been with the wind and the sea.

“I know the history museum is always looking for volunteers, which looks wonderful on a college application,” his mother continued when Remus had paused for too long.

Remus nodded, hoping to keep his expression pleasant, and cut his pork chop. “Maybe. I was hoping to lean in a little bit of a different direction.”

“Oh?”

“Just sailing, I mean. Racing. There are prizes, some of them with money attached. Good for scholarships, or…”

Remus’ father chewed slowly. “Oh. Well, yes. But you have the mornings to do that. Something more productive with your day, maybe. What are the other boys on the team doing, for example. Maybe ask James or Luke or Thomas. Well, maybe not Luke, given everything that happened this year.”

Remus only nodded again, biting down everything else. _But he wanted to race sailboats,_ _run with them,_ he wouldn’t say. _What could be more productive?_

“Yeah,” he said instead. “I’ll look into some options around town.”

That, made his mother and father smile.

Julian sat to Remus’ left swinging his legs and looking between them all.

“Can I go out on _Wolfsbane_?” Julian asked hopefully. Julian, through Remus, had developed an incredible love for Remus’ sailboat and wanted nothing more than a ride.

“Absolutely not,” Remus’ mother said. “Not until you’ve finished your lessons at the Club.”

The Club. Dreaded words. Gryffindor Club, what Remus and Marlene secretly called _The Yacht_ , was the most prestigious private club on the island. You needed a two-member invite. It was beautiful, but it was all walls. Closed off from the rest of the island. People came here, stayed at the club, and didn’t even _see_. The pools were not the ocean, and the cuisine was not _Hogwarts_ cuisine. Remus wasn’t even sure his parents knew anymore, although he knew they had once. Early on. He didn’t know what had changed. You fall into a crowd, maybe.

He would get Julian out and about one day, when he was old enough. Remus himself spent his time on all parts of the island, in all neighborhoods—almost. He loved Helga more than anything, with its nicknacks and beautiful, dream-like creations.

Except The Hollow.

He’d never gone. Almost, once, on a dare from James when they were thirteen. There were nasty rumors. He’d only seen it from the sea, the deserted sands of Shack Beach and clusters of houses. And the rumors looked true enough. He knew James went sometimes, knew who he was friends with. The only reason he didn’t get shit for it at school was because everyone liked him too much. Remus thought they liked the fact that James could get away with it, too. James could get away with anything. He was a Potter.

 _Everything except me_ , Lily always said, and Remus smiled at the thought.

They’d all be out of here in a year anyway. At least for a while. College was like a promise-land. Remus was so sick of this island, but not the ocean. He’d miss the ocean.

The Lupins had been on Hogwarts for nearly one hundred years—a short time, compared to the Evans and McKinnon families. An even shorter time compared to the Potters and Deveaux. One hundred year old new money? Remus thought it was a ridiculous statement but, compared to the other Godric families, they were new. It was relative. Relative money. The Salazar families had been there even longer, Remus couldn’t quite remember their stories.

Remus couldn’t imagine how no one had wanted to go out and see the world. This island was his home. He loved its every shore and nook. But he… _wanted._ He wanted with the sea and the wind and his _Wolfsbane_ with its twinning pontoons and white sails. It’s tiny below deck cabin that snugged in a bed for nights lulled by the waves. Nothing outside but water and the stars.

After dinner, Remus climbed up the tall, winding stairs to Bane Tower. It had been named by his great, great, great, grandfather, also named Lyall, like his father. A play on words. Lupin, wolf. _Wolfsbane_. Bane Tower. Sometimes Remus felt like he was just another word game. Remus and Julian. Raised by the wolves.

“It kept him sane, the stars,” Remus’ grandfather had always said. “Quite literally, I mean. Madness runs in our family, Remus. Who knows when it might pop up again. And they kept him _almost_ sane, I should say.”

The stars kept Remus sane, too. They were a map on the ocean, and an escape on land. He didn’t have to think when he looked at them. Maybe that was what was dangerous about them. Hypnotic. Mirrored by the haphazard lights of The Hollow, right along Godric’s shore.

Remus’ grandfather had died of madness. That’s what they said. Remus had watched him go. He missed him.

It didn’t stop Bane Tower from being the perfect place to see the stars.

~

For Gods, the Potters were good people. Really, for _anyone_ the Potters were good people. They were kind to Sirius, and payed him well. Mostly he looked after their boat, but he would also do chores around the house, run errands for this and that for Mrs. Potter.

It was how he had met James. Really met him. School didn’t count, Sirius had disappeared when he was eleven from his old life and that meant, what friends he might have had at Hogwarts Academy were no more. No one liked a run-away. No one really liked a Black.

The Potters weren’t prejudice. Did they have more money than Sirius could picture? Yes. But they were good. It was the only reason Sirius had even considered liking James again. And still, that didn’t mean he understood why James still hung out with him— _them_. James was the only one from Sirius’ old life who had decided to reconnect. It was strange. Sirius had nothing to offer him.

It had only gotten stranger when, about two years ago now, he’d brought Lily Evans, who had in turn brought Marlene McKinnon. The boys and the girls had been taught separately when Sirius had still be there, and so Lily and Marlene were vague memories for Sirius. Dorcas—homeschooled—and Marlene were gone for each other almost immediately, and Sirius had theories about Lily and James. None of them had ever brought anyone else, so, Sirius assumed, the rest of his old schoolmates had turned out to be the assholes he expected. Gods in their own territory, up on Olympus, reaping their spoils on the backs of others. Lacrosse playing, secret addicts to _something_ , who drank too much, lived for the summer, and liked boobs more than themselves. Then again, James hung out with those people, too. It was hard to figure out.

But weren’t they all.

“Black!”

James, in all his leather boat shoes and pink swimsuit galore, was jogging up the dock to meet him. Sirius gave a nod, but kept sweeping last night’s rain from the decks, the morning sunshine hot on his neck.

“What’s up?” Sirius said.

“Throwing a party,” James said. “Thought maybe you and your crew would want to come.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow. “You’re inviting us to a party?” They were famous, Godric’s boisterous parties. Drugs, alcohol, swimming pools, and the ocean. The best mix.

James nodded. “That I am.”

Sirius laughed. “Pots, that place will be crawling with Gods.”

“I thought you liked that sort of thing.”

“Yeah,” Sirius said. “On our turf, where we aren’t so outnumbered that, when the police show up—because they always do— _we’re_ the ones who get blamed just for existing. And for the Crucio that’ll be there—and _don’t_ try to tell me someone won’t bring some.”

Crucio. Hogwart’s powdery nightmare.

“Fine,” James said. “We’ll make it one of yours, then. Your turf, you name the place.”

“Why?”

James grinned. “Maybe I like transcending boundaries.”

“Maybe Marlene wants to see Dorcas.”

“Maybe.”

Sirius straightened and leaned on his broom, looking at James squint at him in the bright sunlight reflecting off his glasses. He was wearing a navy _Castle_ _Lacrosse_ t-shirt that decidedly did not go with his shorts.

“Maybe,” Sirius said. “But it’s gotta be at Shack Beach.”

James whistled. “That’s pretty deep territory. You _know_ Felix will make its rounds.”

Crucio was the island’s greatest gift, and its greatest curse. Some people called it Crucio, some called it Felix. The drug wasn’t very addictive chemically, but its effects were powerful. Sirius had heard that it allowed the user to hallucinate memories. Past, distant or near. It could keep people coming back for more, time and again, hoping to relive things—or desperate to see something different. Crucio wasn’t addicting, but memories definitely could be. Good thing Sirius didn’t value his past.

Sirius stuck to the name Crucio. It was torture to live like that, not luck.

Crucio meant a good and steady cash flow for the suppliers. Like Dorcas. Sirius and Saint basically lived off of her income—not that she could do much without answering for how she accumulated it. It was a strange gift, a tedious life, but Dorcas seemed to like it.

Sirius stared James down. “And if it does, no cops will show up to tell about it.”

“Deal,” James sighed. “You’re fucking hardcore, Black.”

“Sure,” Sirius said.

“Potter,” came a voice from the end of the dock.

They both looked and Sirius stiffened as soon as he did, feeling self-conscious clutching his broom. Remus Lupin and Luke Deveaux were standing there, aviators on and Castle Lacrosse tank tops. Luke’s flashy Jeep was waiting in the circle driveway of James’ house. It was Luke who had spoken. Remus stood a few steps back. With their sunglasses, Sirius couldn’t tell where they were looking.

“Let’s go,” Luke said simply.

Sirius turned away before they could, pushing rain water harshly into the sea.

“Yeah,” James said, voice softer this time. “Coming.”

Pity. Sirius could practically feel it.

“Ten tonight?” James said to Sirius. “Sound okay?”

“Okay,” Sirius said without turning around.

He felt the vibrations of James jogging back down the dock, but didn’t turn to watch the three Gods go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: drug use and past abuse


	3. part ii

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings in end-notes

**_part ii_ **

**_PREVIOUSLY ON RELIC KEEL:_ **

**_Sirius, who ran away from his family in Salazar and ended up in The Hollow when he was eleven, loves the Lupin’s boat and hates the Gods—the word people in The Hollow use for those who live in Godric._ **

**_Saint, who was raised at Saint Clair orphanage, hates the Gods too. He manipulates them. He steals from them._ **

**_Saint and Sirius cling to each other. They’re all each other has._ **

**_Dorcas, who used to live in Salazar but now lives in The Hollow with Saint and Sirius in their run-down treehouse called Grimmauld Place, sneaks into Godric to see Marlene, despite Marlene’s father._ **

**_James, the oldest money on the island, has invited Sirius to a party, and Sirius has turned it on his head, requesting it be at Shack Beach so that the Hollows aren’t outnumbered by The Gods—bad things happen when they are._ **

**_Remus, a God, is worried he’s going to go mad, and wants to race sailboats instead of going to college._ **

**_Luke, another God, has had a bad year._ **

Logan stood well out of the street light and watched the Saint Clair courtyard. Church. Orphanage. Whatever they called themselves, it was fenced in. It was empty at this time of night, but Logan stared anyway. He tried to stare through the walls. Logan wanted to see him so badly—sometimes he thought it would eat him right up, burn him away from the world.

There was a reason he’d bargained so hard for this corner in Salazar. He could sell Felix and wait for a glimpse at the same time.

Saint Clair was a brutal building, despite it merely looking like what it was, a church. It had gleaming windows and smelled like new paint, always. Inside was just as shiny, polished floors and wooden furniture. Sometimes when Logan passed the lemons at the Saturday market, he could still smell the floor cleaner in the bucket he’d kicked over that night.

 _Go,_ was the word that haunted his mind. _Go, Logan, go, go, go—_

“Three packs,” said a voice from the shadows.

“Forty,” Logan said without thinking, and then cursed himself. That wasn’t careful. He straightened and turned away from the courtyard. “I don’t take money from people I can’t see.”

The shadows laughed. “What if I was a cop, Tremblay?”

Logan sighed, relieved, and smiled a little, too. “I know.”

Logan recognized Dorcas as she stepped out from Salazar’s shadows. She had her hair back in braids and a halter top on.

“Candy?” she asked, and dangled a rainbow strip in front of him.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, and took it. “Any luck tonight?”

Dorcas nodded, chewing. “Just had to restock.”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “Now?”

“Uh-huh, party tonight,” she smiled. “Shack Beach.”

“Yeah? I didn’t see you at the Carrows. I was just there.”

Dorcas was ripping a sour strip in half, eating this one color by color, but she froze. “I…I don’t get it from Carrow.”

Logan blinked. “Oh.”

Dorcas turned to face him. “Logan, you get your stash from Alecto and Amycus _Carrow_?”

Logan raised a shoulder. “Yes.”

Dorcas began shaking her head. “Logan…” she began, and then leaned in closer, glancing between his eyes. He didn’t know Dorcas well. They weren’t really friends. Logan didn’t really have friends. He didn’t know why _she_ cared. To her, if it weren’t for his necklace branding him as a Saint Clair, it probably would have seemed as though he’d just _appeared_ one day.

He looked away from her gaze.

“You said there was a party,” Logan took a step back.

Dorcas frowned. “Yes…”

“There’ll be Gods there?” Logan questioned.

Dorcas nodded slowly. Gods. Gods meant money. He reached up and touched the wooden cross on his neck, hanging beside his silver, fleur-de-lis pendant. He didn’t remember who had given him the pendant, only that he couldn’t remember it not being around his neck. Just like the cross. _Ten_ was burned into the wood.

Money meant Finn.

He looked back at the empty courtyard.

“When?” Logan asked.

“On my way there right now.”

“I’ll come along,” Logan said. He wouldn’t mind a crowd right now. The Felix was heavy in his backpack, not really, but it felt that way.

He turned to go, but when Dorcas put a hand on his arm, he knew what was coming.

He turned to her in the yellow light, eyes pleading with her _not_ to.

“Are you getting high?” Dorcas asked.

“Felix doesn’t get you high.”

Dorcas’ expression darkened. “You know exactly what I mean. And it’s Crucio, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

Logan swallowed over a dry throat.

“It’s just…” he began, and glanced back at Saint Clair.

“I think I know what it is,” Dorcas said more softly. “But I don’t think anyone in there would want—”

“You don’t know him,” Logan said, voice even softer, then cursed himself. “Let’s just go.”

“Logan—”

“You don’t know anything,” Logan snapped this time. He wanted the powder. His fingers itched for it. He hated his past—so why did he want it so badly? “You’ve never been inside. You don’t know what they’re like. Now let’s _go_. Take me.”

Logan didn’t wait for her to follow him, he just walked between the weights of his necklace and the pack on his back.

In Felix’s haze, Logan pushed Finn through the basement window instead. Hands closed around his shoulders instead. He watched Finn’s terrified eyes through the glass as he was dragged away towards God knew what. But at least Finn was on the other side. In Logan’s warped memories, at least it was Finn who was free, instead of him.

~

The party was exactly what Dorcas loved. Bonfires blazing in pits with people drinking and laughing beside them. Couples piling blankets in the beds of trucks. People floating on boards in the shallow waves with beers, only just visible in the moonlight. Music blasted from speakers set out on the rocks and grass, different songs coming to her ear as she moved around the party. Logan trailed her.

Dorcas didn’t know what to do about Logan. She’d first seen him about a month ago. He was quiet. He didn’t have friends. Dorcas couldn’t be positive, but she thought maybe he had escaped. She was fairly sure he was taking Crucio, and now that she knew it was from the Carrows—

“Baby, baby, baby,” came a voice floating over it all, and then arms were flung around her neck from behind and lips pressed to her neck.

Dorcas turned into Marlene’s arms, accepting the quick burst of kisses.

“See you, I guess,” Logan said, and turned away into the crowd. Dorcas only watched him go for a moment before smiling at the feeling of Marlene beside her again.

“How?” Dorcas laughed happily. “I thought I was gonna come get you later on.”

“Saint snuck me out,” Marlene grinned. “That kid’s got trick after trick.”

Dorcas looked over at where she could see Saint, his hair a darker blond than Marlene’s but still shining in the moon, pouring a drink. He was standing with Sirius, who looked about as put-upon as ever, sipping a cup in silence. Saint raised his cup at her, downed it, and filled another.

“Definitely a trickster,” Dorcas laughed, running her fingers through Marlene’s hair. They caught on a few knots and she smoothed them out, the curls bouncing around her palm. “What do you want to do tonight?”

Marlene looped their arms together as they walked down the beach. “Oh, James and whoever he decides to bring will be here soon. They’ll give us some entertainment, I’m sure of it.”

“Do you know how many people he’s bringing?” Dorcas said. Looking around the beach, she recognized most everyone from The Hollow.

Marlene snorted. “You mean how many Gods are gonna be here?”

Dorcas laughed. “Maybe.”

Instead of answering, Marlene leaned against Dorcas until she stumbled sideways. Marlene pressed her gently against the side of one of the tall palm trees above them. Her face had gone serious, taking Dorcas a little off guard. Dorcas watched her reach up to press a palm to her cheek, her eyes searching.

“How much do you have on you right now?” Marlene said softly.

Dorcas took a slow breath in. Her eyes found Logan, down at the water’s edge. He was in the shadows, turned away from everyone. She could see him twirling a familiar small plastic bag in his hand. She knew what it was, even if she couldn’t make out the sifting, pink powder inside.

“A lot,” Dorcas said, and looked back at Marlene, who was quiet. Dorcas raised a shoulder. “You know I’ll never lie to you. I have a lot on me.”

“No, I know,” Marlene said. “I just…”

“Name a faster way to get off this island and I’ll stop,” Dorcas said.

Marlene’s expression flickered for a moment.

“What?”

Marlene sighed, and pressed a quick kiss to Dorcas’ mouth. “Nothing. I’ll steal all of my father’s stupid money.”

Dorcas smiled a little. “No, you won’t.”

Marlene’s next kiss was lingering. She dipped her hand up Dorcas’ shirt, palm warm on her bare skin, thumb stroking the under curve of her breast. “No, I won’t. Maybe his stupid nice scotch.”

Dorcas hummed, pressing into Marlene’s touch. “That sounds nice.”

Dorcas was leaning in for another kiss when bright headlights made them both squint their eyes shut. Marlene raised her hand against the glare.

“Jesus,” she cursed. “Who the hell.”

Between her fingers and in the firelight, Dorcas could see the perfectly shiny black metal of the car in question as the lights turned off. For a moment, she had worried it was the police, but she hadn’t heard any sirens. Instead, the glossy logo of a Mercedes flashed up at them. Another pulled in, and then other, and another, and Dorcas huffed out a laugh.

“Looks like the Gods are here.”

~

Sirius didn’t like Shack Beach crowded. Part of him regretted suggesting it in the first place. He looked up as James stepped out of his car, slamming the door and whooping loudly. He received some drunken responses from the crowd, most of whom didn’t care who he was, not in their state.

Saint sighed from beside Sirius, cocking a hip. “First the Crucio shows up…”

Sirius eyed Dorcas, who was quietly taking someone’s money, Marlene a few steps away.

“And now the Gods,” Saint finished.

“The night is young,” Sirius said.

More people followed James. Luke Deveaux appeared next, much to Sirius’ surprise. Even more surprising was Remus Lupin.

“Is it just me or do those two look alike?” Saint said, finger pointing between Remus and Luke.

Sirius turned his back on them, leaning against one of the folding tables. “Don’t they all look alike?”

Saint laughed. “You’re so critical, mon étoile. You know, some of the boys might be looking for a good time.” He raised an eyebrow.

“I’m no fun, you’re always telling me that.”

“Oh, but you’re _so_ much fun. Sure, they’re Gods, but they’re also _here_. They’re on our turf. They’re here because we _fascinate_ them, baby.”

Sirius shook his head. “And you like that?”

“For a few hours and a few beers, I do,” Saint said. “I can always hate them again in the morning.” Saint narrowed his eyes, watching them. “I like being free.”

Sirius looked back over his shoulder. Lily Evans was there now, with a few other girls. She was embracing Marlene, then Dorcas. Sirius knew Lily merely because James knew her, just like James knew Saint because Sirius knew Saint. Sirius was fairly sure James loved Lily. But he and James didn’t talk about things like that. Maybe they would have, once, if Sirius hadn’t left.

They were mingling, all of them. The shiny and dull alike. Sirius’ eyes found Remus. He and Luke were sticking together, both looking guarded and uncomfortable, maybe even a little freaked out. Sirius had never seen either of them in The Hollow before. He wondered what had changed. Maybe it was just James’ insistence.

“You got started without us,” James’ voice came. He clapped Sirius on the shoulder. “Nice turn out.”

“Your baby’s over there, Potter,” Saint said, nodding to Lily.

James eyed Saint the way people usually did. Awed. Wary. He followed Saint’s gaze and his usually light expression faltered.

“Yeah, I wish.”

“Try harder,” Saint shrugged.

James rolled his eyes. “You are blunt.”

“I’m pretty, too.”

James nodded, and clapped Sirius on the shoulder again. He looked far too pressed and clean in his khaki shorts and polo. “Sure. Okay, I’m leaving and getting a drink.”

Sirius looked back at Remus. Did he sail the _Wolfsbane_? Did his father? His mother? His sandy hair was in his eyes as he squirted a drink into his cup from a keg.

If Sirius ever took Crucio, he wouldn’t have been alarmed by the memory that suddenly surfaced in perfect clarity. But he never went farther than a few beers, and so he was surprised. A young Remus Lupin was suddenly flashing before him, young like the last time he’d spoken to him. They had both been eleven.

_Are you okay?_

Sirius had barely known what to make of such a simple phrase like that. He could still feel how badly his ribs had been hurting him from the night before—from his mother. This boy with huge, golden eyes…he didn’t compute.

_Are you okay? Sirius, right?_

That had been the same day that Sirius had left school for the last time. Left his parents’ house for the last time. Left his parents, and left his brother.

Sirius only realized that Remus was now standing alone when Luke Deveaux was standing in front of himself and Saint.

Luke looked at them dully. In the firelight, Sirius could see that one of his eyes was filtered with a different color. Green instead of brown. He was handsome, but he looked sad. Not actively sad, but like a deep-rooted misery was festering slowly somewhere beneath the blank expression. Sirius had heard about his father.

“Two packs,” Luke said gruffly.

“What?” Sirius said, narrowing his eyes.

Luke’s eyes moved to him from Saint and he blinked at Sirius like Sirius was stupid.

“Felix,” Luke said. “Two packs, I can pay.”

The Gods’ word for Crucio.

Saint arched an eyebrow, tilting his chin up and to the side in the way he did when he was flirting. His eyes weren’t friendly, though. They weren’t even their usual playful. “And why would I be able to give you something like that?”

Luke and his stony expression didn’t hesitate. “You’re a Hollow, aren’t you?”

Sirius didn’t remember much of Luke from school, not like he remembered Remus. By the looks of Luke now, though, Sirius didn’t care.

While Sirius’ anger began to simmer, Saint’s anger laughed.

“And what are you looking to relive, Deveaux?”

Luke’s expression changed to a snarl. Defensive. “None of your fucking business,” he said, and then took a step forward, flicking up Saint’s cross necklace with a finger. “Orphan.”

Sirius threw his cup down and shoved Luke in the chest, hard.

“Go get your fix somewhere else,” Sirius said.

Luke pushed him back with an instant sort of fire which told Sirius that Luke was already drunk. “You sure you want to do that?”

“Stop talking the way you are and I won’t have to. You won’t find your _luck_ here.”

They had drawn a crowd quickly. Godric-Hollow fights weren’t exactly rare. They were even expected. They were exciting, too.

Luke sneered.

“You’d be so handsome if you stopped making that face,” Saint said. He was leaning lazily back against the side of a truck. Saint did many things. He didn’t fight. It was one of the things Sirius liked about him.

“You know I could put both of you in a cell with one word,” Luke said.

“Yeah?” Sirius asked. “And I’ll see your dad there, right?”

That did the trick.

Sirius felt his adrenaline spike as Luke threw the first punch, landing it squarely on his jaw. It whipped his head to the side.

“Oh, bother,” he faintly heard Saint say before he was lunging back at Luke, grabbing him by the shoulders and landing a kick of his own to his ribs. It only made Luke double down. He threw all of his weight against Sirius, making his feet slip in the sand, and managed to turn him, to get his arm around Sirius’ neck. Sirius landed an elbow against his cheek.

“Yeah,” Luke said in his ear. “If there’s one thing you know how to do, it’s get the shit kicked out of you, huh, Black.”

“ _Luke_ ,” another voice came, and then Luke’s body fell away from Sirius’. Sirius sank down onto his knees in the shallow waves, the salt seeping through his shorts.

It was Remus, shoving Luke away, practically dragging him back towards their car.

Their eyes met once, over everything, and then Sirius spit blood into the sand and hauled himself up.

“Sirius…”

It was James, looking wide-eyed and frozen. He looked from Luke and Remus, and back to him.

“You want to party?” Sirius said. “This is what you get. I think you know that.”

James pressed his lips together. “Okay, fine. Maybe, but for no good reason.”

“I’ve never seen a good reason,” Sirius wiped his nose. “I’ll let you know when I find one.”

James laughed a disbelieving laugh. The fires didn’t seem so friendly anymore. Neither did the sea.

“I’ll see you later, Black,” James sighed, and turned, jogging to catch up with Remus and Luke. He had looked disappointed.

Sirius watched the Gods get into their cars, doors slamming. It had lasted all of five minutes.

“Well, that was fun,” Saint said. He was walking towards Sirius as the crowd dispersed, like swimming against a tidal pull. “Nice face.”

~

Logan saw the commotion on the far end of the beach like it was through water, like it was in another room. He was slumped against a palm tree, eyes hooded. The small, clear plastic bag, now crumpled in his fist, had been long since emptied into his mouth.

“What is all that?” Finn said from beside him.

Logan was already looking at him. He couldn’t look away. Finn was fiddling with his own cross necklace, rubbing his thumb along the seventeen burned in, like he always did.

“A fight,” Logan mumbled. “Put Gods and Hollows together…it’s a given. I’ve learned that much since getting out. Mon rouge, look at me.”

Finn did. His eyes were the same, his cheekbones, his mouth, his hair…but it was clouded. The fog was the only thing keeping Logan from thinking that this was real. It was probably a good thing he didn’t but, still, he wished the fog away.

“I’m going to get you out,” Logan said. He reached up, but he knew he couldn’t touch. He had tried. It never worked, not with Felix. “I’m going to get you out, okay? D’accord?”

Finn’s expression did what it would have done. He looked worried. “Lo…”

“Why did you make me leave you?” Logan said softly. “Why did you make me?”

Then, Finn said the words he had said that night. He reached out to touch Logan’s cheek like he had that night. Logan couldn’t feel his warm palm this time.

“I need you to be free, baby.”

Finn’s entire body flickered. The Felix was wearing off.

Logan felt his lip tremble. “I’m all out. I sold the rest. I don’t have any—any more.”

“That’s okay,” Finn said, and then said something he never would have if he really knew about all of this. If he really knew what Logan was doing. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Hello?”

Logan flinched at the new voice, pulling him out of his haze a little. He looked up to see a boy standing there. He was backlit by the far bonfires, and Logan couldn’t make out much of his face.

“He can’t see me,” Finn reminded him, as if Logan needed any reminders.

“Hi,” Logan said faintly. He blinked, trying to see the boy better.

The boy walked forward slowly until he was crouched a few inches from Logan. “Are you okay?”

Logan swallowed. He could still feel the grit of the powdery Felix in his throat. Could the boy tell?

“Yeah,” Logan replied. “I’m…”

The boy raised an eyebrow. He was blond this close up. Blond and blue eyed. Finn flickered again at Logan’s side, beginning to smudge into smoke.

“Lo,” Finn said. “I need to go now.”

“No, don’t,” Logan’s head whipped to the side in time to watch Finn fade away. Logan’s heart went with him. He closed his eyes against the empty space, letting his head fall back against the tree. “ _No_ …”

“Hey, hey…” the boy tried to calm him.

“Why did you make me?” Logan said.

“What?” came the unfamiliar reply.

Logan felt a hand on his shoulder and let out a sob. The boy had made him miss the last of Finn’s face.

“Finn,” Logan said.

“I’m Leo,” the boy said. “And I’m gonna help you, okay?”

Leo’s hands were warm as they hauled Logan up.

**_~_ **

James stared down at Luke, the morning sun bright through the window.

“I tried to get him onto the bed,” Remus said from beside him. “He insisted on the floor.”

“I can see that,” James sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Jesus, his face.”

Luke’s cheek was swelling, his sandy hair a mess.

“Black did a number,” Remus said.

“I’d say. At least his mom won’t give a shit.”

“Fucker,” Luke mumbled from the floor. “I can hear you.”

“Maybe you need to hear it,” Remus said pointedly. “You’re…”

Luke didn’t open his eyes when he kept speaking. “I’m kicked off the Castles. My father is in jail for fraud. What the fuck else do I need to hear?”

James looked at Remus and mouthed, _a lot._

Luke groaned and rubbed at his eyes, wincing when he brushed against his bruises. “I need to get off this fucking island. Ow, fuck.”

“You need a greasy breakfast and an ice pack,” James said. “Now get off Remus’ floor.”

“And we have to leave without my mom seeing your face,” Remus said. “Your mom might not give a shit, but mine will.”

“Re?”

They all looked up to see Julian Lupin standing there, still in his pajamas.

Remus gave Luke a little kick to the shin that clearly meant _stay quiet_ before stepping over him towards Julian.

“Hey, Jules, what’s up, bud?”

“Can we go sailing today?”

James watched Remus crouch down to his brother’s level, laughing. Sometimes little Jules made James wish he wasn’t an only child.

“You know mom wants you to practice more first,” Remus said. “But soon. I promise. I can’t wait to go with you, you know that.”

Julian sighed. “But _you’ll_ be there.”

“But I go where the ocean’s rough. I need us both to know what we’re doing. It’s safer. And what’s the rule about the water?”

“Always be safe,” Julian groaned as he repeated the phrase diligently. “Because tides and yeah, yeah, yeah.”

“ _Yeah_ ,” Remus said. “Now, can you go tell mom I’m going out to breakfast? And tell her I got the post at the history museum…then she won’t bother me about it tonight.”

Julian laughed. “Yeah, okay. Hi, James.”

James smiled. “Hi, little J.”

Julian pushed up on his toes a little, peering at Luke. “Hi, Luke…”

Luke gave a small wave above his head, his other arm still thrown over his face. “I’m fine.”

Julian looked back at Remus. “Should I not tell mom they’re here?”

Remus winced. “Um. Yeah.”

Julian nodded, then ran down the long hall towards the stairs. Remus rose, and when he kicked Luke’s leg this time, it wasn’t as gentle.

“You’re the reason I’m teaching my little brother to _lie._ ”

Finally, Luke opened his eyes. The green wedge in the brown was startling today. “No, I’m the reason you didn’t even have to _ask_ your little brother to lie. He just knew.” Luke groaned when Remus jabbed his toe into his side this time. “Smart kid…”

They went to the Hogshead in Rowena. It was tourist free and had the best greasy bacon on the island—or anywhere, in James’ opinion. Plus, Thomas worked there. He was on the team with them, made the best egg sandwiches in the world, and sometimes made them for free since his parents owned the place.

“Look what the night dragged in,” Thomas laughed from behind the counter. He had a bandana over his hair, and a tank top on. “The usual, mes amies?”

Remus smiled as they grabbed their regular table. “You know us too well, Talkie.”

Thomas whistled when Luke took off his sunglasses, lowering himself gingerly into a chair. “Nice face, Deveaux. I heard about that.”

“Orange juice,” Luke said with a glare that lost all of his heat with the way he was rubbing his temple. “Please, all I want…is orange juice.”

“Coming right up, fight club,” Thomas snorted.

“Actually—” Luke said, and then he was all but pushing himself out of his chair and leaning into the counter beside James.

“Two packs,” Luke said to Thomas.

Thomas’ expression faltered, but he kept his bright smile. “I don’t do that shit during hours, man. Come on.”

Luke just stared hard at him, jaw muscles jumping, before pushing back off of the counter and sitting harshly down at their table again with Remus. It was quiet for a beat.

“Sorry,” James said quietly. “He’s…”

“Having a rough time of it,” Thomas said. “We’ve all seen the papers. Did they really get his dad in the middle of the night?”

James nodded, throwing the money down for the food. “Yeah. Hey, we were gonna go to the fields later tonight, scrimmage a little. Come?”

Thomas nodded. “Yeah, just text me.”

James went to turn, then hesitated. He glanced at Luke, who was talking to Remus, and looked back at Thomas.

“T,” he began, wetting his lips and lowering his voice more. “How often does he come to you for it?”

Thomas gave him a look. “You know I only sell it to help my parents out—”

“No shame here,” James said. “Seriously. None. I just worry—Luke…”

“I know,” Thomas sighed. “Not too often. Once every two weeks maybe. Two packs which is just two doses. If it seems like he’s getting more, then he’s getting it from somewhere else. Someone else.”

“Do you know where that could be?” James asked, although he wasn’t sure _how_ much Felix Luke took at all. He wasn’t sure about anything concerning Luke anymore.

“Well, of course there are other dealers, but I get my stash from Winter.”

“Winter?”

“Kasey Winter.”

James blinked. “Natalie’s guy?”

Thomas nodded. “He’s got it all in Helga. Looks like a surf shop.”

“Jesus,” James said. “Do you think she knows?”

“Please,” Thomas flipped a sizzling egg. “Nothing gets past that girl. But you should ask Dorcas. She knows more than I do. You hang with Black, right?”

“Um,” James said. “Sort of?”

“He’s friends with her. Ask her.”

“Right,” James began, then paused. Out the window on the street, he had caught a flash of red hair. “Hey—hey, be right back.” He turned towards Remus and Luke. “Be right back!”

James didn’t wait for a response as he pushed out of the door.

“Lily,” James called. “Lils!”

Down the sidewalk a little ways down, Lily stopped, Marlene and Natalie, too. She turned slowly on her heel, looking like she wished she didn’t have to. James jogged up with a smile.

“Good morning,” he said.

“Hi, James,” Lily tucked her hair behind her ear, glancing behind her. She looked beautiful in the sunlight, white sundress floating around her thighs.

“Did you get my text?” James said carefully. “I was hoping we…”

“I can’t really talk right now,” Lily said. “We’re catching a movie.”

James tried not to let his face fall. He nodded. “Oh. Right, okay. Maybe later?”

Lily looked behind her again, then down.

“Not—like, not if you don’t want to I mean, but…” James risked a step closer. “I think maybe we should talk about—”

“I can’t right now,” Lily cut him off. Her smiled looked plastered on. “Later, okay? At the club maybe. My parents are going there for dinner tonight. Me and Petunia will be there, too.”

James nodded and took a step back. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

Lily sent him a last, tight smile and turned back to her friends. Marlene waved a little.

“How’s Luke?” Marlene called. “Last night looked…”

James shrugged. “Not great.”

Lily looked confused.

“Long story,” James said. “Um. Yeah, see you at the Club, Lily?”

Lily sighed but nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, James.”

James felt utterly stupid as he walked back inside the cool air conditioning of Hogshead and slumped back down at their table. His egg sandwich was steaming and waiting for him. He stared down at it.

“If you’re not going to eat that, give it to me,” Luke said around his own food.

James swallowed and picked it up, even though he was less than hungry now.

~

Logan woke up in a soft place, a blanket over him, a pillow beneath his head. There was only one soft place he had ever slept in.

He jolted up, heart roaring to life in his chest.

“Whoa, whoa,” said an unfamiliar voice. It was female, and just to his left.

Logan blinked against the morning light.

“Hey, hey, hey there, green eyes, you’re okay,” the woman came into focus. She had a scarf wrapped around her blond hair and overalls on. She knelt in front of him with a spatula in one hand. “You’re all right, honey, you’re all right.”

“Who are you?” Logan said, eyes scanning the room for his backpack. “Where am I?”

“I’m Eloise,” she said. “Eloise Knut, that’s K-n-u-t. Leo found you last night and you didn’t look so good, and he brought you home. Now, I’ve got breakfast going, how do you feel now?”

“Leo?”

“He’s just in the shower,” Eloise said, nodding towards the back of the small house. “Through there.”

Now that he was listening, Logan could hear the faint splash of water on tiles.

“Oh.”

Eloise seemed to be studying Logan’s face. He watched her eyes go to the wooden cross at his neck, then back up to his face, and suddenly felt all too self-conscious. She could send him back. She could do anything.

“How do you know my boy?” Eloise asked instead, rising to go back to the stove. It wasn’t an accusing question, just curious.

“I…” Logan finally spotted his backpack in one corner. His heart collapsed a little. “I don’t. I don’t know him.”

“Oh, no?”

Logan didn’t know anyone. Except Dorcas—sort of. Except the Carrows and their crew.

“No,” Logan replied.

“Well, then I’m glad you two are getting to be friends,” she smiled. “Where’re you staying, honey?”

“I…”

Leo rounded the corner, shorts and t-shirt on and running a towel over his hair. He smiled, maybe a little sheepishly when he saw Logan. “You’re awake.”

“Sorry if I…” Logan said. “Um.”

“No way,” Leo said, waving a hand. “You can take a shower if you want.”

“Of course,” Eloise smiled. “While we finish breakfast, go ahead.”

Logan just stared at them.

“You don’t have to,” Leo said.

“No,” Logan said. “No, I…”

Eloise laughed. “You don’t like finishing sentences, do you?”

“I’ll take a shower,” Logan managed. He stood and felt heavy on his feet. Whatever was cooking smelled incredible. He was starving.

He walked towards Leo slowly, piecing together the faint memories from last night. Finn, Felix, Leo approaching him, strong arms practically carrying him to…here, he guessed. He wondered what part of the island they were on.

Logan picked up his backpack as he edged around Leo. “I’ll take a shower.”

Leo laughed a little. “Okay, cool.”

The hot water was just as good. He didn’t remember the last time he’d had a nice, real shower. Well, he did. Saint Clair. But a shower wasn’t worth the rest. Logan ran a towel through his soaking hair and looked at himself in the mirror. The most he’d seen of himself lately was in bathrooms. His eyes were bright against the dark circles beneath them. He was thinner. The Carrows took a good share of whatever he made, and it had only been a month since he’d escaped into Salazar without a clue where he could go. It was enough to live on, but he was too scared to venture into town. He wasn't eighteen yet, and the orphanage was more close than it was far.

He had opened the bathroom door when he heard Eloise’s voice.

“Honey,” Logan heard Eloise say in a whisper. “You can’t just go bring stray sweethearts in here, you know I can’t let them go.”

“Mama, did you see his cross?”

“Well, of _course_ , I did.”

“And in his bag…” Leo’s voice sounded worried. “When I found him I think—”

“Thank you for the shower,” Logan said, and the two of them looked up at him. He tried to smile. “Really.”

“Of course, darling,” Eloise said. Her smile was softer now. “Breakfast is ready.”

“Oh,” Logan said. He glanced out the window. They were in a neighborhood. Anyone could live here. “Oh, I actually—”

“I have to go to work,” Leo said. “And you’re coming with me.”

Logan blinked. “Where’s work?”

“The Lion.”

“The Lion,” Logan said. “In The Hollow?”

“Yep,” Leo said. “If you’re going to be prejudice against something, pick something else. Celeste and Pascal are some of the best people I know.”

Logan recognized the names. They owned the Lion.

Logan cleared his throat awkwardly, and turned to put his clothes back on. He wasn’t prejudice. The Hollow was safe.

“Not those,” Leo said. “Those are filthy, we’re washing those. Use these.”

Logan glanced back at Leo and his tall frame, clutching the towel around his waist. “I…are you joking? I can’t wear your clothes.”

“You can wear these,” Leo said and his grin was a little teasing. It reminded Logan of Finn. He tossed him a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. “They’re a few years old.”

Logan glared, but he didn’t feel very angry. The clothes smelled clean and warm. Like a home.

Logan got dressed, and they ate their eggs quickly before Eloise shooed them out of the house to open up her own shop.

“Stray?” Logan said as the door swung shut behind them. They were in Helga, Logan realized. He recognized the rows of shops, some still quiet, some just beginning to open up.

“Mama gets nervous a little,” Leo waved him off. “But don’t worry about it.”

“Why does she get nervous?”

Leo glanced at Logan as they walked, then away. He put his sunglasses on. “The Crucio. C’mon, let’s take the beach.”

“What does your family do?” Logan asked, trying to ignore the Felix comment. Leo had to know, and that meant Eloise had to know, too.

“Makes trinkets out of found objects. We win prizes at the trade show almost every year,” Leo shrugged, watching the water as they walked. “Doesn’t always pay the bills…so, I’m here.”

“Found objects,” Logan said. “Cool.”

Leo smiled at him. “I think so.”

“Do you go to the Academy?”

Leo nodded, then rolled his eyes. “Can’t wait for college.”

“Why?”

“You know how Gods are,” Leo said. “Think they own the place.”

Only, then, Leo seemed to realized that Logan didn’t. Saint Clair orphans didn’t go to Hogwarts Academy. Logan, even though he couldn’t see Leo’s eyes, could all but feel them flit to his necklace, then away.

“Yeah,” Logan said quietly. “For sure.”

It wasn’t too long a walk. The Lion was right off of Shack beach. There were a few surfers in the water, but other than that, they were alone. A jolly sounding bell rang out above them as they entered the restaurant and bar.

“Leo,” Celeste smiled. “Bon matin, mon fils,” she kissed both of his cheeks, then placed her hands on her hips. She was flushed from the stove, and had the islands familiar French lilt, the same one that Logan had himself. “And you have a friend.”

“This is Logan,” Leo said, throwing his stuff down through a door in the back and retrieving an apron to tie around his waist. “Is it okay if he hangs around today?”

Logan looked at him in surprise. “I don’t need—”

“Mais, oui, of course,” Celeste said, and reached for a plate and a fat, sticky looking cinnamon roll. “Logan, here you are, sit wherever you like. Leo works the bar line, so maybe there if you want to chat.”

Logan stared at the cinnamon roll in his hands. “I—okay.”

“Sweet tooth?” Leo asked when Logan sat hesitantly on one of the stools.

“I guess,” Logan said, and took a bite. He closed his eyes. “Ouais.”

When he opened them again, Leo was looking at him.

Finn used to sneak him extra dessert back in their rooms whenever he had a kitchen shift. Logan jolted. He needed to get to The Carrows. He needed to resupply.

“So,” Leo said. He was starting up the friers. He had pushed a snap back down over his hair, keeping it out of his face. His arms looked strong and tan, handling all the equipment and chopping up potatoes. “Want to talk about it?”

Logan chewed his second bite slowly.

 _Brought you something,_ Finn would whisper in his ear. He’d kiss his neck slowly. _Wake up for just a second, baby, I’m back._

Logan regretted all the times he’d only woken up half way. Missing him hurt like hell.

“Where’s your dad?” Logan asked, ignoring Leo’s question.

Leo’s head snapped up from his work. After a moment and a hard look, he returned to his work, knife moving again.

“That’s a pretty insensitive question, especially coming from you.”

“Me?”

“Where’s _your_ dad, Logan?”

“Who knows.”

“Well, mine got killed in a storm,” Leo said. “Any other questions?”

There was a long note of silence between the two of them.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Leo asked again.

“A storm?” Logan asked in return.

Leo sighed and turned to the frier, dumping the slices of potato into a basket and setting them in the bubbling oil. “Yeah.”

“Was it the hurricane last year? Hurricane Albus?”

Leo didn’t glance up, but he shook his head. “Not the hurricane. Just a storm. He was out at the wrong time.”

“What was he doing out—”

“I have to get something from the refrigerator,” Leo said shortly, and walked away.

Logan wasn’t there when he returned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> light drug use, brief mentions of past abuse and past death of a father, fighting, brief mention of blood.


	4. part iii

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings in end notes

**_PREVIOUSLY ON RELIC KEEL:_ **

**_Logan Tremblay escaped from Saint Clair Orphanage around one month ago—and he’s torn up with guilt about it and leaving Finn behind._ **

**_Dorcas realizes that Logan is getting his stash from the dangerous Carrow twins._ **

**_The two go off to Sirius and James’ party at Shack Beach._ **

**_Dorcas is surprised by Marlene, and we can see that there is some sort of rift between them about leaving this island and Dorcas selling Crucio._ **

**_Once the Gods show up at the party, Sirius is surprised to see Luke Deveaux and Remus Lupin among James’ company—he’s never seen them in The Hollow before. It startles Sirius into a memory of the last time he saw Remus, the last day he was at school._ **

**_Luke mistakes Saint and Sirius for Crucio dealers, insults Saint, and him and Sirius fight. We learn Luke’s dad is in jail and that Sirius’ old abusive home life is common knowledge._ **

**_As the party breaks up, we go further down to a dark part of the beach where Logan, having taken Crucio, sits with a phantom Finn, asking Finn why he made Logan leaving him behind. Leo finds Logan that way, exhausted and in tears, and takes Logan home with him._ **

**_The next morning with James, Remus, and Luke at Remus’ house, we learn that Luke’s dad is in jail for fraud. They go to breakfast at the Hogshead where Thomas works—and won’t sell Luke any Crucio. When James asks where he gets it, Thomas tells him to go talk to Dorcas or Kasey Winter, who is the other supplier and the boyfriend of Lily and Marlene’s friend, Natalie Darcy. James spots Lily out the window. Lily won’t talk to him, but James seems to want to and convinces Lily to meet him at Gryffindor club later._ **

**_Logan wakes up in Leo’s warm bed, goes to The Lion where Leo works, and learns that Leo’s father died in a storm—and that Leo won’t say anything more than that._ **

“Something’s wrong,” Lily said. “I can tell, Marls, come on.”

Marlene sighed, looking at Lily on the bedspread and kicking her door shut behind her. She set the popcorn on the bed between them before carefully climbing on herself to sit across from Lily.

“Well, what’s wrong with _you_?” Marlene said, popping a kernel into her mouth.

Lily tilted her head. “Deflecting.”

Marlene put her hands over Lily’s between them. “James is a really good guy, Lils. And you’ve liked each other since we were, what, eleven?”

Lily just shook her head. “I asked you first.”

Marlene just looked at her. “It’s…not big.”

Lily narrowed her eyes. “Really?”

Marlene hesitated, looking down. She took a deep breath. “I got into college.”

Lily blinked. “Not _big?_ Marlene! Congratulations!”

“And…” Marlene sighed again. “I haven’t told Dorcas.”

“Well,” Lily began. “Well—well, why not?”

“Because that’s not how she wants to leave this place,” Marlene said, picking at a stray thread. “Because she wants to just…run free. I don’t really understand what she thinks is going to happen, no matter how much money we have, I just…I know she doesn’t exactly have college in mind.” Marlene looked back at Lily. “What I mean is, I know we haven’t talked about it.”

Lily raised an eyebrow. “You should talk about it.”

Marlene raised an eyebrow right back. “Says the girl who’s been avoiding James for an entire month.”

Lily winced. “That’s—different. We’re not together. We just…”

“Had sex.”

Lily slapped a hand over her eyes. “Oh God. It was so good.”

That startled a laugh out of Marlene. “Then _what_ , pray tell, is your issue?”

Lily let her hand fall. Her eyes looked sadder. “Wouldn’t it be easier to be happy about getting into college if you weren’t leaving anything behind?”

“What?”

Lily looked down at the popcorn.

“ _What,_ Lily Evans?” Marlene said, louder. “Jesus fucking— _Lily._ ”

Lily sighed and got up. “I know. Look, I need to get to the Club for dinner. My parents—and James, I…” she sighed. “Fuck, we have a lot going on for what was suppose to be a peaceful summer.”

Marlene laughed, half-heartedly. “Yeah, we do.”

~

Leo was pulling the key out of the lock to The Lion when a voice spoke.

“Did your dad really die in a storm?”

He froze for a second, listening to the crickets singing in the falling darkness, then turned, adjusting his bag on his shoulder. Logan was standing a few feet away.

“That’s really just a rude question,” Leo said. “Like, seriously.”

“I’m an orphan, I’m curious about people’s parents,” Logan said, then smiled a little, sarcastically mostly, at Leo’s face. “You don’t have to pretend like you don’t know what I am.”

“Why do you take Crucio?” Leo replied. He walked forward until he was face to face with Logan, looking down at him. “Why do you sell it?”

Logan’s stance shifted. “That’s really just a rude question.”

“Huh, is it?” Leo said. “Well.”

Leo watched Logan’s eyes track his hands as he pulled his backpack off.

“What are you doing?”

Leo pulled out a take-out bag, top rolled closed, and shoved it into Logan’s chest. “Let’s go home. You can eat while we walk, I already did.”

Leo stalked into the dark, not sure why he cared so much, and waiting for Logan to follow.

“What made you come back?” Leo asked and hoped he wasn’t now talking to himself.

“I didn’t know I was suppose to stay,” Logan replied. “I thought you just thought you were doing me a favor.”

“Pretty sure I was,” Leo glanced at him. He could see his necklace resting against his neck, over Leo’s old t-shirt.

“I’m fine.”

Leo shrugged. “Okay, you’re fine.”

They walked in silence, save for Logan crinkling the bag open and pulling out his dinner.

“Fuck,” Logan said, mouth full. “What _is_ this?”

Leo couldn’t help but smile. “My own creation.”

“It’s—The Lion doesn’t have this on the menu.”

“No,” Leo agreed. “I said it was mine.”

“Don’t you want it on the menu?”

“I sort of maybe want to run The Lion one day,” Leo said. “Better to have some secret ammo.”

Logan scoffed. “Seriously?”

“It’s not so strange,” Leo said. “It’s a great place. It helps a lot of people—why are you looking at me like that?”

Logan shrugged. “You’re the only person I’ve ever met who isn’t trying to get off this island.”

Leo took a breath and kept walking. Suddenly, he wanted to _tell_ Logan. He didn’t know why.

“I can’t,” Leo said. “There’s too much here.”

“Like what? Some good food, beaches, and an orphanage? An island full of people who seem to hate each other?”

“My dad’s work was here,” Leo said before he could stop himself.

“Your dad’s work,” Logan repeated.

Leo didn’t look at him when he nodded. “The Voldemort.”

Logan opened his mouth as they climbed the porch steps to Leo’s house, but Leo held a finger to his lips.

“Not in front of my mom,” he whispered, and got out his keys.

~

“What are we doing with ourselves tonight, hot stuff?” Saint said.

Sirius looked over at him from his mattress and held up the bottle of whiskey. “What, we’re not doing something right now?”

“We are,” Saint looked at Sirius in the mirror, face framed by the dozens of golden necklaces hung around the vanity’s frame. They were a sharp contrast to the chipping paint and uneven legs. The mirror itself was a little warped. Saint clipped a third necklace around his neck. “But I was just asking.”

“Why don’t you steal silver?”

“I don’t like silver,” Saint smiled in the mirror, then spun himself around on the stool. “And I look good in gold.”

Sirius smiled, too, taking another sip of the whiskey. “Yes, you do.”

“Well, I’ll keep them on then,” Saint said. “If we’re staying in.”

Sirius snorted. “Why do you steal them if you can’t wear them anywhere?”

“ _Because_ ,” Saint clasped a fourth. “I look _good_ in _gold_.”

“Okay, okay,” Sirius laughed. “But we need food.”

Saint raised an eyebrow. “But we have whiskey.”

“I have work in the morning,” Sirius sighed, sitting up. “I can’t go to bed on whiskey.”

Saint looked at him in the mirror again. “Pulled pork from The Lion?”

Sirius nodded slowly, but he was watching as Saint began to take each necklace off. “Do you remember when I came to Grimmauld?”

Saint draped the gold carefully over the mirror. “You mean when you were eleven and scrawny?”

“And you were a dick and scrawny?”

Saint made a tisking sound with his teeth and tongue. “I was never scrawny. But I _was_ a dick.”

“You _are_ a dick,” Sirius laughed. “Sometimes.”

“Why are we reminiscing?”

“I just…” Sirius began. He looked around their room, at the dusk slanting through the cracks in the boards and the summer breeze through the open windows. “Are we going to be doing this when we’re seventy instead of seventeen?”

Saint’s shoulders stiffened. He turned slowly in his chair. His brown eyes were calm and studying.

“Doing what?” Saint asked.

Sirius put the bottle down and sat up, facing him. “Saint.”

“What else do you want to do?” Saint rose, head tilted.

“I think we should leave,” Sirius said, eyes following Saint’s until Saint was standing over him. “You’re in danger here. We both are.”

“The orphanage can’t get me if they can’t catch me,” Saint said. “And your parents don’t look for you.”

“Take your necklace off,” Sirius said.

Saint raised an eyebrow. “Go home.”

“I can’t.”

“Neither can I.”

Sirius shook his head. “We’re—it’s different.”

“Sirius…”

“The only thing stopping us is cash,” Sirius said. “Dorcas can lone something to us—”

“Oh? That’s the _only_ thing stopping us?” Saint said. He dropped on knee on the bed, and then the other, seating himself in Sirius’ lap. “Then tell me something, Black.”

Sirius raised his eyebrows and settled his hands on Saint’s hips. “Anything.”

Saint’s fingers wound themselves through Sirius’ hair, tilting his face up towards him. “What would we know about the rest of the world?”

Sirius leaned up and let Saint kiss him. It was slow and lingering.

“What do you know about anything except what’s right here,” Saint said into their next kiss. “Running around in this tiny little circle of land.”

“Saint…”

Saint pushed Sirius onto his back, pinning his hands above his head.

“I like it here,” Saint said. “We can predict what happens here.”

“And no one can leave?” Sirius said softly.

Saint’s expression flickered. Sirius knew he was prodding gently at a sore spot. They both were. It felt good sometimes, like a bruise or a paper cut. Neither of them wanted to lose anyone else.

Sirius relaxed against the mattress. He looked up at Saint quietly. “ _I’m_ not leaving.”

“You just said you should.”

“I said _we_ should.”

Saint narrowed his eyes a little. “We should not talk about this.”

“You never want to talk about it,” Sirius said and closed his eyes when Saint bent to kiss his neck. “Saint, if you do get caught again, you said they don’t let you out. Not even when you age out.”

“Maybe it’s true. Maybe I’m right,” Saint tilted his head and looked back down at Sirius again. “There were kids much older than I was and, well, I haven’t seen them around, have you?”

“Why?” Sirius asked. He sat up, holding Saint closer against him. “Do you know?”

“Maybe it’s all they know. Maybe they don’t want to leave.”

“So, then shouldn’t we—”

“No,” Saint cut him off. “They don’t let you out. Only I can do that. For myself. I _want_ to be free. _I_ do.”

“And _are_ you?” Sirius said softly, pushing Saint’s hair back from his forehead. Saint closed his eyes, leaning into it.

Saint pressed his lips together and kept his eyes closed.

“Saint,” Sirius whispered.

“I don’t want to talk,” Saint whispered back. “I _don’t_ want to.”

“Okay,” Sirius said. “Okay.”

Saint opened his eyes. They flit to Sirius’ mouth, then back to his eyes. “Can we?”

“Of course we can,” Sirius said, dipping his fingers lightly into Saint’s shorts. “We always can.”

Saint nodded softly. “Okay.”

Sirius pulled Saint towards him and kissed him. He wrapped his arms around Saint’s bare back and Saint melted towards him. Their kisses were like they always were, frantic, a little playful. Saint traced Sirius’ lip with his tongue, fingers digging into his hair. Sometimes, this was just how they spoke to each other. Sirius pushed Saint’s thighs so that they straddled him more firmly.

“What do you want to do?” Sirius said, holding him closer.

“You know,” Saint breathed. He dragged his mouth down Sirius’ neck as Sirius pulled him down to the mattress.

Sirius remembered the first time they had done this. He also remembered when it hadn’t been an option, when they’d barely known each other and, besides Saint agreeing that Sirius could have one of Grimmauld’s rooms, hadn’t spoken. It had taken them a few months to so much as eat a meal together.

“I can feel you thinking,” Saint panted out as Sirius kissed his way down his chest. “Stop doing so much of that.”

“Maybe you should do more of it,” Sirius said, scraping his teeth against the muscles around Saint’s hip.

“No, thanks, sweetheart,” Saint sighed out, his head tilted back and his eyes closed.

Sirius couldn’t help but smile a little as he unbuttoned Saint’s shorts. It was such a Saint thing to say that it warmed him, just as the familiar feel of his skin did.

Sirius knew that Saint, for all his acts and plays, _felt_ more than anyone Sirius knew. Saint still grieved for the family that had abandoned him, and sometimes Sirius thought Saint even grieved for the family Sirius had known and lost, just out of proximity to them.

Sirius knew that Saint stole to steal back what had never been his. Sirius knew it didn’t work—and Sirius knew Saint know that, too.

Saint let out a shaky breath when Sirius took him into his mouth. He was filling fast and Sirius relished in it. This… _this_ worked.

“I’d miss you,” Saint panted out. “If you went, I’d miss you.”

Sirius pulled off and sat back on his heels, hand going to rub himself through his shorts before he slipped out of them, tossing them to the floor.

“You seem to have heard something I never said,” Sirius fell back on top of Saint, catching himself at the last minute to hover above him, and pushing their cocks together. “I wouldn’t leave you _behind_.”

Saint just clutched Sirius closer, his next breath a moan as Sirius rolled his hips, a little sloppily, and slow.

“Stop thinking,” Saint said.

Sirius bent to kiss his neck, sucking blood to the surface of his skin. “You brought it up again.”

It was always the same with Saint. A much needed consistency. Saint’s hips knocked his, they fought each other for the upper hand, usually laughing until the slick slide of their cocks became the only feeling they could think of. Saint never held him as close when he came. He went soft and melted away against the mattress. Saint did, however, chase Sirius’ mouth, knowing that kissing brought Sirius over with him. Sirius pressed his hips down hard against Saint’s oversensitive, spent cock, the way Sirius knew he liked. Saint jolted, teeth biting down onto Sirius’ lip, making Sirius come in thick stripes between them. They dropped beside each other afterwards, shoulders pressed close. It was always the same, but Sirius always felt good after. Safe. Neither of them were leaving, and maybe that was a good thing.

“Fuck, you always make such a _mess_ ,” Saint laughed, staring down at his stomach. “At least this is _your_ bed.”

Sirius just closed his eyes. The room smelled of sex now, and of the ocean. He was sweaty and wanted a swim. They had hours and hours until dawn, though. Sometimes the nights felt useless and too long.

“You like it,” Sirius said.

Saint curled onto his side with a sigh and kissed Sirius’ shoulder. “Dinner in an hour.”

~

James looked up from his coke and peanuts the moment Lily and her family entered the Gryffindor dining room.

“She’s here,” he said to Luke.

“Yeah,” Luke drawled, twisting a cherry stem between his fingers. “I can see that, Pots.”

“Shit,” James breathed. “Shit, shit, shit.”

“Bet you fifty I can tie this with my tongue.”

James drank the last of his soda, crunching a few ice cubes. “That’s a stupid fucking bet.”

Luke shrugged. “Bet I can.”

“I have to go.”

“Dude,” Luke laughed a little. “She’s gotta have dinner first.”

James stood. “She can have dinner after. She promised we could talk. I need to know.” He looked back at Luke and his blackened eye. “Don’t do anything stupid. Wait for me here.”

Luke rolled his eyes, then looked at the bartender. “Olli, come on, man.” He pushed his own coke forward. “Just a little _little_ bit of rum in this next one.”

Olli shook his head, smiling. “Deveaux. Your mom will kill me.”

“My mom doesn’t give a shit.”

James left the conversation behind, taking a few steps forward.

“Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Evans,” James smiled, hands in his pockets. “Petunia. Lily.”

“James! Hi, sweetheart,” Mrs. Evans smiled. “Are your parents here?”

“Oh,” James looked behind him, then back at her, smiling and pushing his glasses up. “No. Just me.”

“And Luke,” Lily mumbled, eyes going behind him.

“Uh, yeah, yeah,” James sighed, cursing himself. “And Luke.”

“Mom,” Lily said, glancing at Mrs. Evans and the rest of her family. “We’ll be right back, okay? I’ll meet you at the table.”

Mrs. Evans nodded. “Yeah, all right, honey. It’s buffet style tonight, do you want me to make you a plate?”

“No, I’ll make it,” Lily said, and looked at James, gesturing towards the open patio doors. “James.”

“Coming,” James said. “Cool.” He looked at Petunia, who looked skeptical, to Lily’s parents. “Bye. Thank you—or—bye.”

The night air was warm as Lily let him outside and down the stones towards the cupola and the sea. She didn’t look at him as they walked, and James was afraid to speak. He wanted this to go the way she wanted it to, even if he was desperate to know what was in her head. It had been such a good night. Had she really not felt the way he had?

Lily stopped only when the cupola stopped her tracks. The dark waves were gentle tonight.

“Okay,” Lily said. “Go ahead.”

James blinked. “That’s it?”

Lily turned and looked at him expectantly.

“Lils…” James said, then laughed a little, exasperated. “Lils, we had _sex_. And—I _know_ it wasn’t just sex to you. I know because it wasn’t just sex for me. I…look, it’s fine if you don’t want to date, I’d never make you do anything, but I just…I don’t understand. I’m an all right guy and… and when I asked you, you seemed…”

“It’s not _you_ ,” Lily began then groaned, turning back towards the cupola’s railing. “Or—maybe it is. I…James, you…your _family…_ they _are_ this island.”

James stared at her back, perplexed. “What does that mean? Like—their money? What?”

He watched Lily’s shoulders slump. “It means I need to get out of here. This bubble, these people. These divides, these fucking neighborhoods.” She turned, her green eyes beautiful and determined. “It’s like we live in clockwork and I can’t stand it.”

James looked over her face. “What, so I’m all gears and cranks, and that’s it?”

“You’re one gear,” Lily said softly. “You’re part of it all. I know you go to The Hollow and stuff, you hang out with Sirius Black and…”

“You hang out with Dorcas,” James countered.

“That’s not—”

James took a step forward. “So, we both cross boundaries—”

“ _What_ boundaries?” Lily said, voice raised. “They don’t exist! That’s the clock part!”

“They exist here,” James said firmly. “And, Lils, whether you like it or not, _we’re_ here right now, and so why not break something? Sirius is nice. He’s troubled, but he’s nice, and I like Sirius. I went to school with him for seven years and now he works for my parents, I’m not going to pretend he’s not there. I want to be his friend. Saint’s a little weird, but he’s fine. Dorcas and Marlene are great together. This is our island, why not do what we want?”

Lily shook her head. “This isn’t our island. This is _an_ island.” She wrapped her hands around her arms in the night breeze. “And it’s a _small_ one, and there’s an entire world out there.”

“Lily—”

She looked away from his face. “And I’m sorry, James, I—you know I like you, but I need to leave when we go to college and I need to leave with a fresh start. No clockwork.”

With that, she brushed by him. James stood there, frozen, listening to her sandals get softer as she walked down the path, back towards the bright lights of Gryffindor Club. James thought of her parents back that way. And then his own parents, no doubt arriving soon. Their beloved club. Their title of one of the oldest names on the island. He didn’t blame Lily for not wanting to carry that with her. Not really.

“No clockwork,” he said softly to himself, and sat down heavily one of the benches.

~

Saint came out of the Potter’s house with a glass of water for both of them with his eyes firmly telling Sirius to keep it cool. Sirius recognized that look from too many almost run-ins with the cops, or marine patrol.

“What?” Sirius said. He downed half of his glass in one go. The sun was high and hot against his bare back. He handed the glass back to Saint and leaned on the long pool cleaner. “De parler.”

“You’ll never guess who just _arri-ived_ ,” Saint sang softly. “Tweedle- _hot_ and tweedle- _hot_ ter.”

“Who the fuck are they?”

“Black!” James called, jogging down the steps to the flat stones of the pool ground. “You guys don’t mind if we’re out here, do you? We’re gonna practice some shots on the rebounder.”

“ _We_ ,” Saint muttered, bending to clear some leaves from the filter.

Remus and Luke came out of the house after him, all three in their swim trunks. Luke stared right at Sirius, eyes hard. Remus looked at him more softly.

“It’s your house, Potter,” Sirius said.

James shrugged. “I’m just asking.”

Sirius watched out of the corner of his eye as the three of them walked over to where the bundle of lacrosse sticks lay, along with a bucket of balls. Luke picked up one first, punching out the net of his stick. Sirius noticed that someone had wrapped his knuckles. Sirius’ own were bare and aching a little in the sun, the split on his lip, too. Luke glanced over at them again.

“How’s the face, Black?” Luke said across the pool, and whipped the lacrosse ball forward. It landed squarely in the center of the trampoline material before bouncing back for him to catch again.

Sirius looked at Luke’s black eye. “Fine.”

“What, had worse?” Luke asked.

“ _Oh-_ kay, _my_ turn,” James said and nudged Luke out of the way and looked at him and Remus. “Wagers?”

“Thirty for ten out of twenty,” Remus said. “Each.”

Luke turned away from Sirius and Saint and scoffed. “Just thirty?”

Remus smiled, tilting his head. “For now.” He walked over to a speaker and plugged his phone in.

Sirius kept his head down, focusing on the pool and the music as they cleaned. He watched as they hurled the ball in hard arcs every time. They laughed, and argued over who got to choose the next song. Saint and him raked the pool clean.

“I hate this song,” Saint kept mumbling to him. “And this one. And this one.”

“You don’t know this song,” Sirius murmured back.

“It’s a new hate.”

“I need more water,” Sirius sighed, and handed the pole to Saint before turning towards the house.

“Wow,” he heard Saint call to the boys from behind him, and closed his eyes. “You guys are like hamsters on a wheel with that thing. Love this song, too.”

“Well, thank you, Saint,” James laughed. “That’s nice of you.”

The shade of the house was a relief and Sirius took a moment in the cool kitchen to take a breath. He hated this. He hated the way those guys made him feel. He hated himself for feeling the gnawing self-consciousness at all. He had a job to do. That was all. It didn’t matter that they didn’t, that they were out there tossing a ball and catching it again all day.

Sirius shook his head to himself and went to the cupboard, grabbing a glass and holding it against the water filter on the refrigerator.

He was watching it slowly fill up when a throat cleared from behind him. He looked up to see Remus standing there.

“Hi,” Remus said. He was breathing hard from their workout. He was eyeing Sirius carefully.

“We’re allowed to come in here for water,” Sirius said, and turned back to his almost filled glass. “If that’s what you’re wondering.”

“What? Oh—no, no, I wasn’t.”

Sirius took his glass away and stepped to the side. “It’s all yours.”

Remus was still a little opened mouthed, and he took his own glass to fill.

Sirius didn’t really want to leave the shade of the kitchen, and it seemed neither did Remus. They stood there, on opposite sides of the counter, drinking their water.

 _The Wolfsbane_ , Sirius’ mind was chanting. _Ask_.

“I wasn’t,” Remus said again. He glanced up at Sirius and took another drink.

Sirius nodded. He didn’t know whether to believe him or not.

“ _Lupin_ ,” came Luke’s voice from outside. “Jesus fuck, _hurry_ , it’s your shot and I’m about to take back my money.”

Remus set down his drained glass in the sink. “See you out there, Sirius.”

Sirius watched him go. The memory was back.

_Are you okay? Sirius, right?_

The sun felt good against the chill that the words brought.

“What was that?” Saint whispered to him.

Sirius shook his head. “What was what?”

“Are you guys almost done?” Luke said, crossing his arms over his chest. His hair was matted to his forehead with sweat. “I sort of want to take a swim.”

“Well, what do you know,” Saint said. “There’s an entire ocean out there, Deveaux, and it’s all for you.”

Sirius, not wanting to fight again but recognizing it in Luke, said, “I clean this pool every other day. You can swim while we do it if you want.”

James thwacked Luke hard on the back of the head before cannonballing into the opposite side of the pool. He surfaced again to place his glasses on the side, then pushed off, floating on his back. Luke glared at Saint for another moment before sitting on the side and putting his feet in.

“Come on, Devs,” Remus said, and jumped in after James. He surfaced and floated over to wrap his hands around Luke’s ankles, tugging a little. “I still remember when your mom couldn’t get you out of the water for cake at my sixth birthday party. You know you want to.”

Luke’s eyes narrowed, but then he was smiling, laughing a little. He swatted Remus’ hand and then dove into the water after him.

“Wow, it emotes,” Sirius said softly to Saint.

“Potentially,” Saint countered. “Okay, we’re done.”

They listened to the boys laugh as they put their equipment back into the pool house.

“Hey,” James said, flicking his wet hair out of his eyes. “You guys can come in if you want. That’s hot work.”

“We’re headed to Shack Beach with our boards,” Sirius said, flashing an awkward smile. “But thanks.”

“You surf?” Remus asked.

“No, Lupin,” Saint’s grin was sharper. “We just _clean_ _pools_.”

Remus shut his mouth. Sirius shoved Saint.

“Yeah, we do,” Sirius said, looking at Remus. “Every morning.”

“Hey, you know what, Lupin,” Saint pointed a finger at him. “We see your _boat_ sometimes—”

“We’ll see you guys later,” Sirius said firmly, giving Saint another push.

“Well,” Saint said over his shoulder. “ _Sirius_ sees your boat.”

“Oh,” Remus said, puzzled sounding. “I mean, yeah, I go out in the morning.”

Sirius turned. He couldn’t help it. “You go out?”

Remus nodded, treading water. “Yeah.”

Saint whistled. “Mystery solved.”

Sirius opened and closed his mouth twice before nodding. “Okay. See you guys later.”

He heard Luke snort as they walked away. “That was weird.”

_It was Remus._

They pushed through the Potter’s house and back to the driveway where Saint’s Jeep was waiting.

_It was Remus out there._

“I’m gonna fucking kill you,” Sirius groaned as they climbed onto the hot leather seats. “Saint, Jesus.”

“Mary,” Saint started the engine. “Joseph. Oh, I thought we were naming—”

“Don’t talk to me.”

“At least now you know. You can lust after a person, instead of a boat.”

“Drive.”

“It could be worse, you could be lusting after Lupin’s father.”

“ _Drive._ ”

~

“Tremblay, you’re back. I was wondering when we’d see you again.”

Logan looked down from the shiny crystal chandelier he was staring at, thinking about Finn. He wouldn’t need Felix today. He’d get to the orphanage before two, when they were let out into the courtyard for an hour.

His eyes found Alecto, who was smiling at him, if it could be called that. Every time his name came out of Alecto’s mouth, part of Logan wished that he was like some of the others that had been in the orphanage, like Finn—meaning _without_ one.

“I’m back,” Logan said, standing. “Now, let’s get this over with.”

Alecto laughed. “ _Oh._ He’s confident now.” She jogged down the rest of the grand staircase. “You weren’t like that a month ago.”

Logan slung his backpack off of his back and took out the cash he’d bundled. “Here.”

Alecto held out her palm for it, and Logan sighed but placed it there. She thumbed through the bills.

“This is all of it?” Alecto asked.

“Yes.”

Alecto reached out and gripped Logan’s chin, making him stare at her.

“Are you lying?” she said.

“You can count it,” Logan bit back, and shoved her away. He worked his jaw, sore from her grip.

She nodded, smiling. “All right, all right.”

The door to the left, framed in gold, opened as it always did. Logan caught Snape’s eye for a moment as he handed the bags of pink powder, rubber-banded together. Alecto took it from him, and Snape stepped back. _A good soldier_ , Logan thought.

Alecto tossed it to Logan, who caught it against his chest.

“Sell it all,” Alecto said, watching Logan slip it into his pack. “Or don’t come back.”

“Fine,” Logan turned towards the door.

“I mean it,” Alecto said. “You think we don’t know what you’re doing in your free time?”

Logan froze. He felt his heart speed up, felt Alecto just behind him.

“How much do you think you owe us by now, Tremblay? With all the… _free samples_ you’ve taken. I’m sure it was suppose to be the other way around, wasn’t it? Wasn’t that why you ended up here?”

Logan kept his eyes down.

“Or,” Alecto laughed. “I guess the real question is how badly you want to see that boy of yours again? And I mean _really_ see him.”

“Don’t talk about him,” Logan grit out.

“Then remember that our deal doesn’t include your little freebies _,_ ” Alecto growled. “Now get out.”

Logan didn’t look back as he pushed out the door.

He waited until he was well out of sight of the Carrows’ manor before stopping in a narrow alley between houses. He dug his fingers into his hair and closed his eyes.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he gasped aloud. His throat felt tight. Everything felt heavy. Logan scrubbed his fingers over his face before looking at his watch. It was 1:56. He needed to get to the orphanage.

Sometimes this island felt like a jungle, and sometimes it reminded Logan of the halls in Saint Clair. Salazar’s alleys were those hallways, only caked with grime. Saint Clair was the jungle in a rare clearing. Or maybe a clearing in a jungle. It made no sense, but there it was.

Logan looked from his crouch in the hedges of a nearby house as the door of the courtyard opened. Two o’clock on the nose. Two nuns came out, and then the first kid. They let the little ones out before the others, always. Logan watched the children grow taller, accompanied by some of the wards—not part of the Church, but older kids who were still there. Logan still didn’t know why. No one had ever said.

And then there he was.

“Finn,” Logan breathed, as if Finn could hear him. Even if he couldn’t hear him, Logan knew Finn would look for him. Already, Logan could see Finn glancing around outside the fence. He was holding a book. One of his tricks, Logan had learned. Logan had been too scared to come even close to the orphanage for the first week and a half, but then he had discovered that he could watch.

And then he had discovered Felix. Two Finns, one far, and one farther.

Finally, Finn found him.

“Finn,” Logan said again aloud. “Finn, Finn…”

Finn smiled, just a little, not too noticeable. He took his book and sat down against one of the benches. Opening it between two fingers, he held it on his lap, bowing his head a little to feign reading. Instead, he stared at Logan.

Logan's crouch dropped to his knees heavily. “Finn.”

Even from a distance, Logan could see Finn’s mouth move around silent words.

_Hi, baby._

And then Finn’s eyes turned sad. He jerked his chin forward a little.

 _Go,_ he mouthed. _Go._

“I miss you,” Logan said aloud. “I’ll get you out.”

Finn shook his head. _Logan…_ he trailed off.

“I’m going to get you out,” Logan said, and turned before he had to watch Finn disappear inside again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: brief mention of drugs, and brief mention of past abuse (neither graphic)


	5. part iv

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: brief mentions of drugs, past abuse, and death of a father

**_PREVIOUSLY ON RELIC KEEL_ **

**_Marlene got into college and hasn’t told Dorcas because she’s scared of how she will react._ **

**_Lily and James had sex and obviously like each other, but Lily is scared to have attachments on Hogwarts when they’re going to college soon._ **

**_Leo and Logan question each other about their pasts without much progress. Logan finds out that Leo hopes to own The Lion restaurant one day, and that his father’s death has something to do with “The Voldemort.”_ **

**_Saint and Sirius talk about leaving the island and how they met when they were eleven years old. They have sex and avoid more difficult topics._ **

**_James and Lily meet at the Gryffindor Club as promised. Lily tells James that she doesn’t want anything tying her to the island, that she hates the fake boundaries that Hogwarts has and that James isn’t crossing them as much as he thinks he is. James understands, even though it hurts._ **

**_Saint and Sirius are cleaning the Potter’s pool when James arrives with Remus and Luke. Remus and Sirius have a tense moment in the kitchen, Luke and Saint argue, and Sirius finds out that it’s Remus who sails the Wolfsbane every morning—Remus thus finding out that Sirius notices._ **

**_Logan returns to the Carrows to hand over his money and stock up on Crucio. We find out that he works for them in the hopes that they will help him get Finn out of Saint Clair, only the Carrows are angry with him for using their Crucio—they say that Logan owes them now._ **

**_Logan heads over to Saint Clair to watch Finn from afar, and swears again that he will rescue him._ **

Remus closed his eyes, soaking in the morning sun and the salty air. The wind pushed his hair back as he tightened the rigging, catching the wind. Sometimes his sails felt like his bare hands. Like he finally had something to hold onto, even if it blistered his palms. The sea made him feel alone, in the best way. Usually, it felt like people were always around. He couldn’t go anywhere without running into at least two people from school, or his parents’ friends. _Yes, he’s excited for college, no, he’s not sure exactly yet, yes, he’s still sailing, yes, he’s still obsessed, yes, he remembers learning at Gryffindor Club, sure, I’ll tell my mom you say hi._

Solidarity was less exhausting.

The wind buffered and he sighed as he slowed down. he looked back towards Shack Beach. Saint had said they saw him every morning—that _Sirius_ saw him every morning. He wondered if Sirius was watching now.

He couldn’t see anything from this far away. Part of him wondered if he could make this island disappear completely, just for a moment. But it was dangerous to stray that far. Even The Cradle, the small _U_ of islands just off of Hogwarts’ southern coast, was pushing it. Remus huffed out a laugh as he managed the ropes to come about, back towards shore. If that wasn’t a metaphor, he didn’t know what was.

Things on Hogwarts had become complicated in what felt like overnight, even though Remus knew that wasn’t true. They were older now. They didn’t just care about summer vacation. There was college to think about, and then jobs. Hogwarts wasn’t the dream it once was. Remus wanted to see mountains, and huge cities, or snow—and not just for a week on vacation. He wanted to belong somewhere because he wanted to be there, and not just because he had grown up there. He was tired of knowing everything there was to know.

He tied up his _Wolfsbane_ on autopilot, stroking his hand over the side before tugging his shirt over his head and jumping straight into the water. It was cooler from the night, but it was what Remus needed. He held his breath as he found the sandy bottom, his eyes closed. For a moment, he didn’t have to be anywhere. He got to enjoy the ocean and its predictable changes.

When he came up for air, he remembered why he loved this island. That still didn’t mean he didn’t want to leave.

“Are you headed to the museum, sweetheart?” his mother said when Remus came down to the kitchen, freshly showered. He preferred to let the salt linger all day, but he figured he should be fresh for his first day of work.

“Yeah,” Remus held up his keys. “Just looking for some coffee first.”

His mom held up a mug for him, laughing. “Ask and you shall receive.”

Remus smiled. “Thanks, mom.”

“How was it this morning?”

Remus poured some milk into his cup. “It was good. Sun’s going to be strong today. Went near The Cradle—not too far, don’t worry.”

“You know me too well,” Hope laughed, whisking some eggs into a lather. “Well, it’s pizza night. We’re ordering in so, if you want to have some friends over and take it to the den, that’s fine with me. But don’t complain if Jules crashes the party.”

Remus nodded. “Actually, I think we’re going out. If that’s all right?”

Hope nodded. “All right, sure. Be safe, though. Who, uh…”

“James and Luke,” Remus sighed. “Mom—”

“I wasn’t going to say anything—”

“It’s not Luke’s fault,” Remus continued anyway. “His dad, I mean. He didn’t _know_.”

“I _know_ that,” Hope sighed. “But…Even I can see that boy’s hurting and I barely see him at all.”

“Then shouldn’t he be with his friends?” Remus said.

Hope raised her eyebrows at him, and Remus raised his own right back.

“All right, all right,” Hope said. “You’re gonna be late, I’ll see you later, baby.”

Remus knew he should take the car his parents had given him. He knew he should get used to driving, knew his dad wondered why it just sat in the garage. But here, on the island, Remus liked his bicycle. He liked the warm breeze. It reminded him of being out on the water.

Which, in turn, now reminded him of Sirius Black.

When Remus remembered Sirius, he mostly remembered bruised cheeks and nasty looking cuts. He remembered the hushed way people used to whisper about him, and how, even when he was loud, grinning and well-liked, he was still from Salazar. Sometimes he had eaten lunch surrounded by people, and sometimes he had eaten it alone with his brother.

Remus didn’t understand this island. Was Sirius really so different because he was born a few miles South rather than North? It made no sense—only it _did,_ but only because it was all Remus had ever known.

The Hogwarts History Museum was a pride of the island. Remus knew it well from school trips, and from his own interest. He’d spent many Saturdays there as a kid, gazing at all of the small models of ships and dreaming about what it would be like to sail them, wishing they weren’t trapped behind glass—feeling a little like _he_ was trapped behind glass. A ship in a bottle.

“Hi there, Remus,” Layla smiled at him, green eyes kind and skin a rich, dark brown against the pale pink scarf in her hair.

“Hi, Layla,” Remus smiled. “Having a good summer so far?”

“Sure,” Layla shrugged. “Lots of time here. I saw you win the sailing race last Sunday, congrats.”

Remus smiled. “Thanks. It was real fun. Sorry I beat your brother, though.”

“Oh, Lyle doesn’t mind,” Layla waved a hand. Her nails were painted pink, too. “Don’t worry about it.”

Remus had been friends with Layla since they were little, competing for best in class usually. She was wicked smart and mellow. Remus could always use some mellow, good conversation—especially with James being James and Luke being…well, whatever Luke was now. Layla liked history, and her family owned the museum, which meant Layla told tales that were, albeit tall, fun to listen to.

Remus leaned against the desk, looking around. “This place never changes, huh?”

Layla laughed, clicking a pen. “History doesn’t tend to change that much, R, and so neither do we. Unlike the world out there.”

“I don’t know about that. Nothing ever feels too different out there,” Remus laughed, too. “But I guess you’re right. I’m glad you’re here, though. Or else I’d be sitting behind this desk by myself.”

“I’m glad you’re here, too,” Layla nodded. “What made you take the job?”

Remus snorted as he rounded the corner, picking up his name badge where Beatrice, Layla’s mother and the museum curator, said it would be. “Don’t pretend we didn’t see each other here when we were little all the time. Not to mention at Gryffindor Club. _You_ , obviously.”

Layla raised an eyebrow. “Me and your mom.”

Remus winced and Layla laughed.

“C’mon, we both know you’d be out on your boat all day if it was up to you.”

Remus laughed. “ _Fine._ But seriously. You’re a perk.”

Layla nodded, rolling her eyes with a smile. “Just a couple of history buffs, I guess.”

Remus shrugged. “There are worse things to be.”

The day was pretty slow. A few tourists here and there, taking photo behind the cardboard cutouts that made you look like you were dressed as a sailor, or a pirate.

“Are there really pirates here?” one little girl had asked Layla.

Remus had smiled when Layla crouched down and whispered to her, “careful, there’s one there,” and pointed at Remus.

When lunch rolled around, Remus expected Layla to pull out a bagged sandwich like him, but instead she scoffed and picked up her bag.

“Come on. We have to get out for a bit.”

Remus shrugged. “All right, where to?”

“The Lion, of course,” Layla replied. “It’s the best food on the island.”

“The Lion,” Remus repeated slowly. “You mean—in The Hollow?”

Layla gave him a look. “Oh, you’re not one of _those_ are you?”

“One of what?” Remus said. “No. I’m not, I just… c’mon, you hear things.”

“ _Hear_ things? You’v _e_ never _been_?”

“Once,” Remus swallowed, thinking of the fight. “It didn’t really go well.”

Layla just shook her head.

“History is just one great field of stories, Remus. You’ll never get to the truth unless you listen to them all.”

And so Remus found himself riding alongside Layla on their bikes and right through Gryffindor. The Hollow didn’t have a sign or anything, but you knew when you were in it. Remus almost wished he had been able to see some sort of line to cross, but everything was just suddenly different. Low houses with open doors, people gathered together and laughing. Kids running with surfboards over their heads, towards Shack Beach. It had seemed even more vibrant in the dark the night of the party, even through the tinted windows of Luke’s car. String lights hung over cookouts, and music blasting from speakers. It had smelled amazing, and Remus would have to say Layla was probably right about the food.

The Lion was just as bright as everything else. It was bustling with lunch-goers, and the doors were flung wide, letting the heat right in. Remus looked around at the people. Some tourists, obviously. Some not. Hollows. Some of them smiled when they caught Remus’ eye, and some narrowed their eyes.

“Hi, Leo, babe,” Layla said as she slid onto a stool at the counter.

There was a blond boy behind it wearing a tank top and a snapback. He smiled as he set some shrimp down in a frier. “Hey, Layla, babe, ça va?”

“Just working. At least I’ve got Remus for company now.”

Remus smiled awkwardly when Leo fixed his blue eyes on him. He really didn’t know what he was waiting for. Something terrible to happen?

Leo only held out a hand. “Leo, nice to meet you.”

“Remus,” Remus said, and took it. He tried not to look at the rainbow bracelet on Leo’s wrist for too long, but he could tell Leo had felt the way his hand tightened. “Yeah—you, too.”

Leo touched it briefly, like an old habit, as he pulled away, giving another smile to Remus.

It didn’t necessarily mean Leo wasn’t straight, but on such a small island, Remus tended to notice these things. He and Luke had figured each other out pretty fast around sixteen. They’d kissed. Once. And then winced, laughed, and shoved each other in the pool. Sometimes Remus wished he and Luke had worked. He didn’t see any other boys coming his way. Leo was smiling at him like he knew what Remus was thinking.

“What can I get you two?” Leo asked.

 _A boyfriend?_ Remus thought wistfully.

“Two of your specials, please,” Layla said. “Re, you’re going to lose your _mind_ it’s so good.”

“What’s your special?” Remus asked.

Leo shrugged, but he was grinning. “Like a chef ever gives up his secrets—”

Leo had stopped mid-sentence, eyes going over their shoulders towards the door. Remus turned to look, and a moment later, a brown haired boy was slinging a backpack down carefully between his feet and taking the seat beside Remus.

“Well, look who’s back,” Leo said to him.

The boy glanced at Remus and Layla, then gave a small shrug. “Yeah.”

Leo snorted. “ _Yeah_ ,” he parroted. “You’re just hungry.”

The boy shrugged again.

Leo sighed, and gave Remus a look that said, _can you believe this?_ before turning back to the stove. “This is Logan guys. Apparently he doesn’t talk today. Three specials. Coming up.”

~

Logan didn’t recognize the boy sitting at the counter. He didn’t recognize the girl either. Then again, he didn’t recognize many people. He didn’t know anyone. Except Dorcas—if that even counted. And Leo. If that counted, either.

The Felix was heavy in his pack, wedged protectively between his feet, and he wished the strangers would leave so that Leo would talk to him. He hadn’t said two words that weren’t him making sure that Logan liked his food, and asking him where he’d been.

Logan was a little annoyed with him for asking that question. It wasn’t like Leo didn’t know what Logan did. Then again, Leo didn’t know _why_ Logan did what he did.

“You guys get the new madness exhibit up yet, Layla?” Leo was asking the girl with the scarf in her hair. “The one you were telling me about.”

The sandy-haired boy looked up from his food. “The madness exhibit?”

The girl—Layla—cocked her head. “Remus, you…you don’t know?”

“Know what?” the boy—Remus—replied.

Layla sat up a little, looking suddenly awkward. “Your mom donated almost everything we have. I mean…it is your family that’s famous for…”

Remus raised his eyebrows. “Losing their fucking minds?”

Layla winced. “Well, yeah, okay, poor choice of words on my part. But madness isn’t always a bad thing, you know. People say people are crazy all the time. Sometimes they’re just extraordinary.”

Remus looked back down at his food. “My family’s not extraordinary, believe me.”

“Usually extraordinary-ness belongs to one person, I’d say,” Leo said. “My mom’s pretty extraordinary. Doesn’t mean I am.”

“You want to stay on this island, don’t you?” Logan found himself saying. Then, he felt his neck heat and he turned down to his food.

“What’s so extraordinary about that?” Layla replied at the same time as Remus said, “You do?”

Leo just laughed, rolling his eyes at Logan. “I’m with Layla on this one, guys, sorry.”

“What about you, Logan?” Layla asked. “I want the museum after I go to college. At least I think I do. Leo wants The Lion, Remus wants to sail the world…” Remus blushed at that, and Layla’s eyes were very green. “What do you want to do?”

Logan found it strange that they were treating him like that. So normally. Logan knew his necklace was on display. It was easier than explaining why people hadn’t seen him around and pretending to be a tourist. That lead to questions. Being abandoned didn’t. And he was. He was abandoned. People didn’t ask. Most probably thought he had just aged out. People didn’t ask. It was better that way. Logan didn’t have any answers. All he had was the memory of that last night with Finn. Finn had returned to their room, eyes wild and voice urgent.

_Come on, Lo, wake up. Wake up, Logan, we have to go. Now._

Logan had felt helplessly awake in the first weeks of being out. He was still sorting through what that meant.

Logan swallowed. “I don’t know. I’m—looking for someone first.”

Remus sighed and mumbled. “Aren’t we all.”

“You are?” Leo asked softly.

Logan nodded. “Or, not looking. I’m just…I’m waiting for someone.”

He knew where Finn was, but Logan knew that he could wait forever and he wouldn’t come. Logan had to take what he wanted. It was a lesson he was learning fast.

“Oh,” Remus replied. “Um…cool. I hope you find them.”

Logan just nodded.

“Well, we should head out,” Layla said, rising. “Gotta get back to work.”

“Sure thing, just pay up front,” Leo smiled. “See you later, Layla.” He nodded at Remus. “Nice to meet you.”

“You, too,” Remus smiled back. “The food was great.”

Logan watched Leo watch them leave, then snort. “That guy looked more spooked than a horse with a snake.”

“Isn’t that what Gods are supposed to look like?” Logan replied.

Leo shrugged. “Usually you can’t see their eyes behind their aviators.”

Logan laughed a little. “Right.” he looked back down at his food, realizing he had begun picking his fries apart, rather than eating them.

“I’m looking for someone too, you know,” Leo broke the silence.

Logan did. Only, he hadn’t thought about it like that. Leo’s dad and Finn. Leo’s dad was probably dead. Finn wasn’t.

“I hope you find him,” Logan replied. “Your dad.”

The Lion was in full swing now, the lunchtime rush loud and boisterous. Leo had a tank top on, and Logan thought he looked a little tired. Sleeplessness showed easily on his skin.

“Do you have to run?” Leo asked instead of responding. “And hide? Like, from the police?”

Logan sat up, instinctively looking behind him. “I assumed I would have to. But…it hasn’t been that difficult.” He laughed a humorless laugh. “I guess I keep overestimating how much people actually care about me. Maybe I should have learned something by now.”

“Maybe you’re just looking at the wrong people,” Leo said quickly, and looked up with a smile, a small one, then down again. “I know a few others who got out. They don’t seem to have trouble, so, you know, if you needed a job or something, you could work in my mom’s workshop. With me. Or here. I’m sure Celeste and Pascal would be all right with it.”

Logan felt taken off guard. “Oh. I…” he thought of the powder packets in his bag. Of the Carrows. _How much do you think you owe us by now?_

 _Others?_ he wanted to ask. _What others?_

“Just think about it,” Leo said, and turned towards one of the stove tops to check on some boiling water.

“Yeah. Okay.”

They sat in silence for a long moment.

“It’s a boat,” Leo began suddenly, answering Logan’s yet unasked question. The Voldemort. What his father had been looking for. It was almost like Leo was thanking him for telling the truth about his situation. An eye for an eye. A truth for a truth. Logan sort of liked that consistency. “ _Was_ a boat. In the eighteenth century.”

“Oh,” Logan said.

“Biggest story on Hogwarts,” Leo said. “Ten thousand pieces of gold, all fallen to the depths of the ocean just off of Hogwarts’ shores…and _never seen again._ ”

“But if it’s just off the shore…”

Leo smiled a little, shaking his head. “But you have to know _where_ off the shore. Otherwise, you have a whole circumference of miles and miles of open water to work with.”

“And your dad figured it out?”

Leo shrugged, expression closing off a little. “He thought he did.” He cleared his throat as he put an order on the counter for a waiter to take away, and ripped another piece of paper down from the line up to look at. “The Cradle. You know it?”

Logan shook his head.

“It’s a sort of…horse shoe shaped cluster of islands, just off of our southern tip.”

“Salazar,” Logan said quietly.

Leo nodded. “Salazar.”

“Your dad was a treasure hunter,” Logan said slowly. “He was looking for a treasure.”

“Yeah,” Leo said, flipping a crab cake in sizzling oil. “He was.”

“And did he find it? Do you want to find it?”

“I don’t know,” Leo whispered, busy hands stilling. “He never came home.”

Logan nodded.

“He _wanted_ to find it,” Leo said softly. “Really badly. And I… I feel like I should.”

“And was he close?”

Leo glanced up from his knife. “Yes.”

“ _Leonardo,_ ” a voice came suddenly, entering the restaurant. “What _does_ your mother feed you, you gorgeous specimen?”

Logan froze. He knew that voice.

Leo rolled his eyes, and looked at the newcomers. “Fuck off, Saint. Hey, Sirius.”

“Hi,” a second voice came, and it was closer, almost beside Logan at the bar.

Leo’s eyes caught on Logan’s again, probably meaning to introduce him, but he stopped instead.

“What’s wrong?” Leo asked.

But Logan just shook his head, and then the newcomers—Saint and Sirius—were leaning against the bar. Logan felt the breath beside him catch just as his own had, and he turned to look.

Logan thought the boy standing beside him looked different. Older. More muscular. Squarer jaw. But the same. Same eyes. Same shock of blond hair. Same warm, brown skin.

“Logan?” Saint breathed, his eyes disbelieving.

Logan went to open his mouth, when Saint’s arms were around him suddenly.

“It’s Saint,” he said softly, just for Logan’s ears. He squeezed him tighter. “God, you’re here.”

“ _Saint_?” Logan whispered into his shoulder. No one had touched him like this in what felt like forever.

“Yeah,” Saint said. He pulled back and raised an eyebrow. “Okay?”

Logan shrugged. “I…yeah, okay.”

“Knutty,” Saint’s serious expression morphed into a grin. He leaned against the counter, keeping his palm on Logan. “Handsome as ever.”

Logan blinked at Saint, then at Leo. “Knutty?”

Leo rolled his eyes. “Don’t listen to a word he says.”

“Oh, Logan already knows not to do _that_ ,” Saint laughed. He tapped his cross necklace. “We’re practically brothers.”

“Oh,” Leo blinked. “Right.”

The other boy—Sirius—looked just as taken aback.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Saint called in a sing-song voice, looking at Sirius. “Order for us, won’t you? And get us a table? Logan,” Saint nodded towards the door. “Come hither.”

Logan was so thankful to see Saint, he nearly tripped while getting up. A familiar face. A familiar anything. Saint had gotten out almost seven years ago. He’d been there one day, in his bed, in classes, in the courtyard, and gone the next.

“Sweetheart?” Logan asked, glancing back inside at the dark-haired boy, Sirius.

Saint just put his hands on Logan’s arms, eyes more intent than Logan had ever seen them, then on Logan’s cheeks. “Holy shit, how did you get out?”

Logan felt his heart slow, then speed up. He swallowed dryly. “Finn. How did you?”

Saint ignored the question.

“Finn,” Saint repeated, nodding. “Of course. When?”

“About a month ago. And he—he’s still in there,” Logan said. “He’s…And I’m—”

“I hear you,” Saint said. He jerked his head over to the table. “Not now. Let’s get back.”

“ _Saint_?” Logan asked again.

Saint rolled his eyes. “Leave it alone. For now.”

~

Saint hadn’t been ready. He hadn’t seen Logan in nine years, but he’d know his face anywhere. All eyelashes and sad, green eyes. A smile he wore with Finn only. He looked spooked now, and tired. They’d sat at the bar, watching one of Leo’s shifts go and another one come, then moved to a table. Watching it get dark outside now, Saint wondered where Logan had been living for a month.

He eyed the backpack that Logan held so protectively close, and thought of the way Dorcas did the same thing.

Saint had a bad feeling.

“So, how’d you two meet?” Sirius said, gesturing between Logan and Leo with a fry when Leo brought over more water.

“Party,” Leo shrugged after a moment of hesitation. “Shack Beach.” He jerked his head at Saint. “You two were there, judging by Sirius’ shiner. Could hear that fight at my house, probably.”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “I didn’t start it.”

“True,” Saint said, wondering how he had missed Logan that night. “Some God—albeit a beautiful one—thought we were selling Crucio.”

Saint flicked his eyes over to Logan. Sure enough, he blushed.

Saint cocked his head. “The horror. Dangerous stuff.”

Leo looked at Saint quietly, and glanced at Logan, then back to him. Saint nodded. _Got it,_ it said.

“Well, would you look who it is,” said a deep voice from behind them, and then there were two strong arms around Saint and Sirius. Pascal placed a loud kiss on each of their heads.

“Eck,” Sirius laughed. “You smell like grease, old man.”

Pascal Dumais laughed. “Grease that feeds you, maybe. And who’s this?”

“Dumo, meet Logan,” Saint said. “Logan, meet Pascal. He owns the Lion with his wife, Celeste.”

“The most beautiful woman in the world,” Pascal said, accent heavy. “Logan, it’s nice to meet you.”

Saint watched Pascal eye Logan’s necklace.

“We were together at Saint Clair,” he supplied.

“Maybe not so loud,” Logan said harshly. “ _Saint_.”

“Oh?” Pascal said, and squinted at Logan. “Who are you with now, mon cher?”

Saint watched Logan open his mouth, frozen, and was about to speak up when—

“Me,” Leo cut in. He looked down at the carrots he was chopping as he said it. “Me and my mom.”

 _Oh,_ Saint thought.

“Oh, Leonardo,” Saint sighed. “Un ange.”

“Not my name,” Leo said.

“I know.”

“Yeah,” Logan replied to Pascal’s still questioning gaze. “Yeah.”

“I see,” Pascal nodded. “Well, I’m happy you and your mother will have a helping hand now. I miss your father dearly, mon fils.” He smiled sadly at Leo.

Leo just nodded. “Yeah.”

“Him and his treasure, eh?” Pascal said. “A wonderful man. I miss going out on that boat of his.”

Leo’s smile was small, but fond. “Those were some of his favorite mornings.”

“Treasure?” Sirius asked.

“ _Black_!” a new voice shouted. “Thank _fuck_.”

Saint looked up when Sirius did. James and Remus were barreling towards them from the dark outside.

“Good lord,” Saint said. “Rain, from Olympus. Water my crops, why don’t you.”

“James?” Sirius said. “What are you—”

James and Remus walked right up to their table—Remus looking slightly more reluctant. “We have a question.”

“How did you know we were here?” Sirius raised an eyebrow. “I mean, just…it’s a little out of your way, non?”

“Remus came here earlier, and when I told him—well, you’ll see—he said maybe you’d be here.”

Saint watched Sirius’ eyes narrow at Remus, confused. “Okay…”

“Well, it’s good to see you again, tweedle-hot,” Saint said to Remus. “Up close this time. We actually though you were going to sail right out of sight this morning.”

Sirius stepped on his toe beneath the table.

“Excuse me?” Remus choked out. “What the fuck did you—”

James blinked at Saint, then shook his head, as if to right his thoughts. “All right, setting every strange thing that comes out of your mouth aside for a moment —where is _Dorcas_?”

“Meadowes?” Logan chimed in.

James’ eyes turned on him. “You know her?”

Saint raised his hand. “I have the same question.”

“Well,” Logan hesitated. “Sure.”

“And she sells Felix,” James said, as if trying to confirm the information.

Logan narrowed his eyes. “Says you.”

James sighed. “I’m not here to turn her in, Jesus, I just have a question.”

“Do…” Sirius was looking at Logan. “Do you sell…”

“What kind of question?” Saint cut in.

Remus spoke up. “A does-she-deal-to-Luke type of question.”

Saint laughed. “Deveaux?”

“You know who Luke is, Saint,” Remus sighed.

“Well, yeah I do, Lupin, he tried to buy off _me_ ,” Saint shook his head with a tisking sound. “Turns out he’s a _prejudice_ piece of eye candy. Who knew.”

“Come on,” James sighed, rubbing his eyes beneath his glasses. “Please, Sirius, come on.”

Sirius shrugged. “We don’t know who Dorcas deals to. We’re not involved.”

“If you did would you tell us?”

Sirius smiled, just a little. “Probably not. But I really don’t know.”

James sighed, sagging away from the table. He looked at Remus. “Fuck.”

“What were you hoping to accomplish here?” Sirius asked slowly.

“We—” Remus said, then sighed, too. “We were going to see if she would agree to stop. If it was her, if she would stop giving it to him.”

“We’d pay her,” James added. “Obviously.”

Saint scoffed, and Logan laughed a little, too, from beside him.

“ _Obviously,_ ” Saint mimicked.

“We just meant—” Remus began.

“We know what you meant,” Sirius said.

Saint popped a fry into his mouth. “If we’ll clean your pools for a few bucks, we’ll grant you three wishes, too.”

“Jesus, Saint,” James groaned.

“Mary. Joseph—”

James ran his hands through his hair. “We’re _sorry,_ we _misspoke_. We’re just trying to help our friend. His dad got taken to jail, his mom pops pills all day and night.That’s already draining what little money the bank didn’t seize and if he wants to do anything with his life he needs a straight head. Just—fuck, we’re just asking.”

Saint prided himself on gathering information, but most of that were things he didn’t know. Luke’s dad had got taken away. But the pills? The financial distress? All of that paired with that guarded snarl the boy always seemed to wear…it almost made Saint feel sorry for Luke Deveaux. He almost said so.

Instead, he said, while twirling the cross around his neck. “Wow, he must feel like an orphan or something.”

“All right,” Remus sighed. “James, let’s just go.”

“What does he look like?” Logan said suddenly before they could turn to leave.

James looked a him warily. “Um. Sort of blond-ish. More brown-haired, I guess. Big guy, built and tall and all that. Oh, he’s got this green spot in one eye.”

Logan nodded. James raised an eyebrow. Saint waited.

“How much will you pay me to stop selling to him?” Logan finally said. He rose as he did, slinging his backpack over one shoulder. “That’s a lot out of my pocket.”

“Logan,” Saint said, but Logan didn’t look at him.

James blinked. “I—oh. Oh, uh—God, what do you want? Two hundred?”

"One grand,” Logan said.

James laughed. “Dude. Who the fuck are you? _No_ , I don’t have that much just— _on_ me.”

“Logan,” Saint warned again, and this time Logan did look at him. Saint shook his head softly.

“Fine,” Logan said through his teeth, and held out his hand. “Two.”

James took his wallet out and handed over the cash.

“Thanks,” Remus said from a little behind James’ shoulder. “Really.”

Logan just nodded, shoved the bills into his pocket, and headed for the door.

“Pardon,” Saint sent a grin to them all, and followed him.

Once they were outside, Saint gave him a wack on the back of the head.

“Fuck,” Logan swore. “S—”

“You get out of that shit-hole and you go around selling _Crucio?_ To _Gods?_ ”

“I—”

“I mean, seriously, what the fuck was that? Do you know how _not_ careful that was?”

“I don’t even know who that boy is,” Logan bit back.

Saint blinked. “What?”

Logan looked out towards the ocean where they could hear the waves crashing against the shore. “He offered to pay, and so I told him what he wanted to hear. When his friend shows up hallucinating next, that’s their problem.”

Saint scoffed. “Fine, okay, _clever_ boy. But you do sell Crucio.”

“Felix,” Logan countered. “And yes.”

“Crucio. And _no_.”

Logan shrugged. “I need the money.”

“For what?”

Logan looked at him and, this time, his eyes were hard. Desperate. “For Finn.”

Saint froze. He opened his mouth, and then closed it. “Excuse me?”

“If I can get enough cash, I can get Finn,” Logan said.

Saint stared at him, and then Saint laughed. Then, he laughed louder.

“You’re shitting me,” Saint said. “You think that?”

“What do you…”

“You think you can _buy_ Finn out?” Saint repeated incredulously. “You think you can _walk_ back in there and _buy_ Finn out.”

Logan took a breath. “He—”

“Logan, Jesus Christ,” Saint snapped. “You walk anywhere _near_ that place and you are _never_ getting back out.” Saint pressed a hand to Logan’s shoulder and shook him. “Do you hear me?”

“I need to do _something_ ,” Logan shouted back. “I need to _do something_ , I can’t just leave him in there, he’s _everything_ to me.”

Saint shook his head. “He got you out. Don’t waste that.”

Logan nodded, eyes bright with tears now. “And you know he got punished for it. You _know he did—_ ”

“Stop,” Saint spat, glancing around, as if anyone could hear. “Don’t.”

“You could help me,” Logan said, wiping his nose. “Bash, you got out once—”

“No,” Saint said, and turned away. “No. And _don’t_ call me that. Don’t you ever call me that.”

“ _Please,_ ” Logan begged. “Please—Saint.”

Saint whirled on him again. “I am _never_ going near there, and neither are you. Finn’s still in there, fine. But he’ll need to get himself free like us if he wants it bad enough.”

“I owe money,” Logan began, then his breathing hitched. “I owe them, I took some of it to see—to see Finn and…Bash—Saint—”

“ _Them?_ ” Saint took a step forward. “Them?”

Logan pressed a hand over his eyes, but Saint walked forward and pulled it away.

“Logan,” he said lowly. “Tell me you didn’t.”

Logan closed his eyes, mouth twisting against his tears.

“ _Tell_ me, _right_ now, that you didn’t let the Carrows tell you they’d help you. And that you didn’t believe them.”

Logan shook his head, not in negation, but in defeat. “I need him. I need him, I’m so…I’m alone _._ ”

Saint pulled Logan against his chest and let him cry. The sobs heaved out of him for a long while, until the collar of Saint’s shirt was wet. Until Logan was breathing softly again, exhausted, and until his voice sounded shot when he spoke.

“You’re really staying with Leo?” Saint asked, more gently this time.

Logan nodded.

“I have a place, too. Here, in The Hollow. If you want.”

“With the others?” Logan rasped.

“What others?”

“How many others are out?” Logan said softly.

Saint shook his head, fingers in Logan’s hair. “Just me, that I know of.”

“You still wear it,” Logan said, pulling back to look at him. “The cross.”

Saint let his hands drop with a last touch to Logan’s hot cheek. “So do you.”

They were both silent.

“I’m sorry about Finn,” Saint said rigidly. “I know how much he meant to you.”

Logan’s brows pulled together. “He’s not dead.”

Saint nodded. “Right.”

“Saint…” Logan began, and Saint heard the almost _B_ instead. “Would you—just thinking about it—“

“No,” Saint said, and then turned and went back inside.

Sirius, back at the table, looked at his face, and then at his wet shirt.

“Okay?” he asked softly when Saint sat down.

“Just dandy,” Saint replied, and looked towards the door. Logan was gone.


	6. part v

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cw: mentions of drugs and mentions of past abuse
> 
> A/N: I super don’t speak Latin. And neither do my trees.

**_Previously On Relic Keel_ **

**_Remus has started to associate sailing with Sirius Black ever since Sirius told him he watches his boat every morning. He thinks about how tired he is of knowing everything there is to know and wishes to leave the island._ **

**_Remus also starts his new job at the Hogwarts History Museum where he meets up with his friend Layla, whose family runs the museum, and whose brother, Lyall, Remus races sailboats against. On his way there, he reflects on the divide between Salazars and Godrics. He remembers Sirius at school, and how he was either celebrated or shunned with seemingly no pattern._ **

**_After their first shift at the museum, Layla takes Remus to The Lion for lunch, chastising Remus’ prejudices, and introduces him to Leo. Remus sees Leo’s rainbow bracelet and thinks about how badly he wants a boyfriend. We also learn that Luke is also gay, but that he and Remus have always been just friends._ **

**_Logan arrives at The Lion, too, is introduced, and listens in on Remus finding out a new exhibit on madness at the museum—the Lupins are known for going insane, but Remus’ mother mentioned nothing to Remus about this exhibit._ **

**_Leo learns that Logan is looking for someone (Finn). Logan reflects on a sleepy feeling that seemed to go away with his escape from the orphanage. Leo offers Logan a job, if he wants, and also tells him about The Voldemort._ **

**_The Voldemort is a boat from the eighteenth century that is said to have sank in The Cradle, a U shaped arrangement of islands just off of Hogwarts Southern Coast. Leo’s dad was close to finding it. Leo feels like he should want to find it, too, for his lost father._ **

**_Saint and Sirius arrive. Saint and Logan see each other for the first time in almost ten years, since Saint escaped when he was seven. Logan tells him that Finn got him out and Saint finds out that Logan sells Crucio._ **

**_Pascal, who owns the Lion with his wife Celeste, is introduced. He’s very close with Saint and Sirius, and he apparently knew Leo’s father before he went missing at sea. Saint learns that Logan is staying with Leo._ **

**_James and Remus arrive, looking for Dorcas who Thomas said might be selling Crucio to Luke. They’d like her to stop and are willing to pay. Logan takes advantage of this and, although he doesn’t sell to Luke, cons James out of 200 bucks._ **

**_Saint learns that Logan has gotten tangled up with The Carrows, the more dangerous of the two Crucio dealers, the other, safer one being Kasey Winter, in the hopes that they will help him get Finn out. Instead, he’s in their debt for using their Crucio himself._ **

**_Logan slips and calls Saint Bash. Saint refuses to help Logan get Finn out._ **

~

Dorcas watched as Saint took his book from the floor of the back seat and flipped his sunglasses down.

“How long?” he asked. “And how do I keep getting stuck with this job?”

“Because Sirius is a better surfer than you are,” Dorcas replied. “And you know what, you can take off. Her parents are out of town for the weekend so her dad won’t be coming home or anything.”

Saint paused and raised an eyebrow. “And so I just drove you because…”

“I didn’t feel like walking?”

“Clever gal.”

Dorcas smiled. “I know.”

“Whatever, I need the car anyway.”

“What are you up to? I thought you were working at the Potters.”

“Just Sirius today,” Saint threw his book back into the rear seats. “I’ve got some detective work ahead of me.”

“Does this have anything to do with that little friend of yours that Sirius told me about?”

Saint rolled his eyes. “Of course he told you.”

“You know you two can’t keep secrets from me.”

“Don’t I.”

“See you later, babe,” Dorcas opened her door.

Saint gave her a salut as she headed around towards the dug-out fence.

Marlene had her paints out and her hair up in a bun when she pushed the window up and open for Dorcas.

“Luke’s here,” she said, and rolled her eyes as she turned away.

Dorcas froze in the window frame to see Luke with his feet crossed, laying on Marlene’s bed.

“Okay,” Dorcas said. “Can he leave?”

“Hey,” Luke said. “Cousin privileges.”

“ _Girlfriend_ privileges,” Dorcas said, shutting the window behind her. “Plus, can’t you go, like, toss a ball at a net with a stick or something?”

Luke rolled his eyes—not unlike his cousin. “I’m on a rest day. Plus, I’m off the team.”

“And whose fault is that?” Dorcas raised an eyebrow.

“He’s just getting out of the house for a bit,” Marlene said with a pointed look that Dorcas understood as _he’s getting away from his mother._

“Plus,” Marlene continued. “He’s a good cover story.”

“I thought your dad wasn’t here.”

Marlene shook her head. “Came home early. Guess his newest _gal pal_ didn’t like _golf._ He’s over at the club now.”

“What’s his deal, anyway?” Luke asked. He had reached over to the bedside table and put a bowl of what looked like mango slices onto his stomach. “With you two, I mean.”

“I am _his little princess_ ,” Marlene said dryly. “Not to be dated.”

“And a Salazar girl who lives in The Hollow?” Dorcas shook her head. “No deal.”

“Right,” Luke said. “Like that’s never happened before.”

Dorcas snorted and sat on the bed, too, stealing a few pieces of fruit. “Like you’re any better than the rest of them, Deveaux.”

“I am _,_ ” Luke said. “I don’t hate Salazars.”

“But you hate Hollows.”

Luke grinned. “I don’t hate them, either. They hate _me,_ and what am I gonna do about their jealousy? That’s their issue.”

“God, you’re an asshole,” Dorcas sighed.

“He’s really not though,” Marlene stepped back as she regarded the painting she was working on. Luke’s face looked back out at them from the canvas. “He just likes to make-believe.”

“Could have fooled me and my friends.”

“He’s a _great_ actor,” Marlene agreed, then stuck her tongue out at Luke. “I just happen to have known him before he learned _how_.”

“All right, fuck you both,” Luke grumbled, and ate another piece of mango.

“Believe me,” Dorcas said. “We’re not jealous of you.”

Luke raised an eyebrow. “You can’t tell me you wish you didn’t have to sell Felix to make a little more money?”

Dorcas narrowed her eyes. “Like you and your money live such a great life.”

Luke looked away, jaw tight.

“Yeah,” Dorcas said. “I’d take Crucio and the friends I have over _that_ any day.” After a moment of hesitation, she looked down and mumbled. “And by the looks of your little habit, so would you.”

“Fuck you, Meadowes,” Luke snarled. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“All right, all right,” Marlene said, tilting her head as she added color to Luke’s cheeks in her painting. “Cool it, kids. Take a chill pill. Knock it down a notch. Luke, why don’t you go get us some pizza or something? Or maybe pick up from Thomas’. I _crave_ his nachos, holy cow. Also, tell him to come hang out later tonight, if he can.”

Luke held Dorcas’ eyes for a moment, then pushed himself up from the bed. “Pepperoni, you?”

“Pineapple and ham, _thanks_ ,” Marlene said, and smiled at Dorcas as she patted his back out the door.

“Hi,” Marlene laughed once the door closed behind him. She walked into Dorcas’ arms. She took Dorcas’ face between her hands and peppered kisses to her mouth. “How are you?”

“Worried about basically all of our friends,” Dorcas laughed. “And that one, I guess, too.”

“Tell me about it,” Marlene sighed, laying down on the bed and eating a slice of mango. Dorcas mirrored her position. “No, seriously, if you want to talk about it, I’m all ears. I mean, I’ve got Luke who, one, needs to get out of his house, and two, needs someone to love, like, God, I wish he had a boyfriend. I just want him to get off this island, go to college, and meet the sweetest human in the world, you know?” Marlene sighed again, eyes far away. “He doesn’t act like he deserves that, but…it’s really his family he didn’t deserve. He’s all torn up about his dad, but his dad’s…a _schemer._ You know? And his mom, don’t even get me started.”

“Maybe he can still meet someone here,” Dorcas replied, and reached out to brush Marlene’s hair away from her face with a smile. “You never know. We didn’t. How long did we spend on this island without knowing each other existed?”

Marlene’s smile faltered in a way that Dorcas was beginning to recognize. It worried her.

“What?” Dorcas asked softly.

Marlene tilted her head. “Hm?”

“You keep doing that,” Dorcas said, tracing a thumb over one corner of Marlene’s mouth. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Marlene said. “I was just thinking about Luke. I mean, my parents sucks but at least they’re…”

Dorcas raised an eyebrow. “Not in jail?”

“Yeah, I don’t know where I was going with that,” Marlene laughed. She scooted closer, letting Dorcas hitch her thigh over her hip, Dorcas’ thumb rubbing idly over her soft skin. “Now what are _you_ worrying about, lover?”

“Sirius,” Dorcas began. “I don’t know he just…he’s never seemed…happy? Saint. He’s trying so hard to be happy that I _know_ he’s not. And now there’s Logan which I think stirred up a lot of Saint Clair stuff for him. I mean, Jesus, _how_ do we not know what’s _up_ with that place?”

“Gods are good at not paying attention,” Marlene said solemnly.

“Saint never takes that damn cross off,” Dorcas said. “I mean, wouldn’t you want to let it go?”

“Sorry, who’s Logan? He got _out?_ As in escaped? Like Saint did?”

Dorcas nodded. “I haven’t talked to Saint about it yet. Me and Sirius are gonna tag-team later, make him let it out.”

Marlene looked suspicious. “Good luck.”

“We have our ways,” Dorcas laughed. “And Logan…He deals. I know him a little. Not really.”

Marlene nodded, going quiet at the mention of Crucio as she always did.

“I like what it gives me,” Dorcas said gently. “Freedom, Marls. More than any other job here could. At least any job that I could get. And its from Kasey, who makes it _safely._ Unlike the Carrows. So—”

“You don’t have to explain,” Marlene said, and pushed herself closer. “I know. Really, I know. I’m proud of you. I just wish there wasn’t as much risk.”

“Like the police do anything about it,” Dorcas sighed, running a hand through Marlene’s hair. “They probably like the revenue it brings for the island.”

“Yeah,” Marlene sighed.

“Well,” Dorcas said. “We probably have at least twenty minutes before Deveaux returns with the pizza…”

Marlene smiled and pushed Dorcas’ hat off, leaning over her on the bed. “Oh? Twenty minutes you say?”

_~_

Saint parked the Jeep between two trees in an overgrow section of a Salazar road.He knew where The Carrows lived. It was difficult to miss their house. Saint could practically smell the gold and diamonds. He felt like he smell the Crucio, too, the rubber bands and the plastic bags, and the sickly sweet powder.

There was no one outside. The whole grandiosity looked strangely deserted.

Saint reached into the rear again for the latest book he had borrowed from James. _Frankenstein_. Not one he hadn’t read before, but a good one none the less.

“Don’t know why you want that one,” James had said when he handed it over. They had both been hot from working in the sun—Saint on the lawn, James on his backhand. “I had to write a book report on that in, like, what, ninth grade? Oof.”

“Beluis amicitiam,” Saint had replied.

“How the fuck do you know Latin?” James had said. “You aren’t even at our school.”

“You gave me a book on Latin.”

James nodded. “Right.”

“Well?” Saint had asked. “ _You’re_ at school. What’d I say?”

James squinted one eye shut. “Beast…friends?”

Saint had laughed. “Literally, sure.”

Saint opened the book now, rolling the window down in the stuffy car. The AC was broken.

“Monsters like company,” he said aloud into the small space and settled down to wait.

~

Lily didn’t expect to find herself painting an old boat with James Potter on a Saturday afternoon, but painting she was. She dipped the fat brush into the blue paint, trying to wipe her hair out of her face without getting blue in it.

“Still doing okay over there, Lils?”

Lily looked up to see James’ head pop out over the upside-down bow.

“All good,” Lily nodded. “You?”

James smiled. “Yeah. Thanks for helping me out.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Lily said. “Just working on my tan.”

James’ head appeared again, only this time his expression was incredulous. “We both know we both burn.”

Lily laughed. “I guess so.”

The Potter’s had their own, small beach in front of their property, and Lily dug her feet down into the sand, looking at the inviting ocean.

She felt all too awkward after their talk a few nights ago. She had been brash, and almost cruel at some points. James was— _good_. But she didn’t want to end up like her mother. She didn’t want to stay for someone, like her mother had for her father, and regret it, like she could tell her mother did sometimes.

And if she had wanted someone to come out into the world with her, she couldn’t have picked a worse candidate. James was a Potter, and the Potters were Hogwarts Island’s beating heart. Their money was in every part of this island. Every grain of sand, every brick. Hogwarts Academy, whose headmaster was James’ father.

If Lily loved James, she’d never escape.

And the problem was, she _did_ love James.

“So, I was thinking about doing a movie night or something,” James said from the other side of the boat. “Put a sheet up and a projector. We could lay it all out on the lawn, or by the pool. Get some candy and popcorn and shit, invite everyone.”

Lily cleared her throat. “Yeah, that sounds cool.”

James was at the front now, painting the boat’s nose. “Any suggestions or requests?”

Lily smiled. “Is it too cheesy to do Pirates of The Caribbean?”

James laughed. “Hell no. There’s no better place!”

Lily shrugged. “Then definitely that. Oh, Will Turner.”

James snorted. “Yeah, can’t say no to that.”

Lily smiled at him, and shifted closer to the other side of the bow.

“So, how’s your common-app going?” James asked. “These essays are sort of killing me. I mean, _you’re staring out a window. What do you see?_ What the fuck kind of prompt is that? _That’s_ what’s going to get me into college?”

Lily laughed. “Not to mention asking me _why_ I want to go somewhere. They’re basically forcing me to make something dramatic up.”

“Right. If I’m being, you know, _honest,_ I feel simple, and if I’m embellishing, I feel fake.”

Lily looked up at him. “Exactly. No, that’s— _exactly._ ”

They smiled at each other, paintbrushes poised.

“I don’t know,” James sighed finally. “I’m—I’m sort of worried, Lils.”

“What about Lacrosse?” Lily asked.

James nodded. “That’s what my dad says. And, yeah, I love it, but…sometimes I wonder if it’s more that I love who I’m playing with. Luke, Remus, Thomas.”

Lily nodded, eyes flitting over his face which had gone serious and tense. “Right. No, that makes sense. But J, you’re so smart. And kind.”

James’ smile was small, but his eyes, when he looked at her, were fond. “Not as smart as you. And I can’t get a degree in kindness.”

Lily hummed, thinking. College was a sensitive topic for everyone it seemed. What was supposed to be one of the best parts of their lives was all uncertainty and vagueness. She thought of Marlene, and how she hadn’t told Dorcas about her early-decision acceptance yet. This seemed to be all goodbyes and leave-behinds.

“Sorry,” James cleared his throat. “That was a downer thing to say.”

Lily shook her head. “I’m starting to think college is just a downer thing.”

James smiled, and, even though it was something that had only been gone for a moment, Lily found that she had missed it. James was so bright. “Yeah.”

Lily knew that she was going to say goodbye to James in a year. But for the first time, she wondered _how_ she knew, and when she had decided.

“You’re going to be amazing, Lils,” James said softly. She could tell that they were both thinking of their conversation. He looked down at her with his hazel eyes. “Really, you are.”

Lily meant to say thank you.

Instead, she leaned forward and kissed him. James’ body tensed, and then relaxed. His mouth opened beneath hers and she cupped his cheek, her other palm splayed on his chest. He was warm from the sunlight. He made a soft sound and tilted his head to kiss her again, hand between her shoulders. Then, he pulled back, their foreheads together. There was paint on his chest from Lily’s paintbrush. Blue, right over his heart.

“Lils,” James gasped. He wrapped a gentle hand around her wrist. “Lils, mixed messages, mixed messages…”

He was out of breath. Lily had made him that way. Her own heart was beating out of her chest.

“You’re right,” Lily breathed, and stepped away, drawing a fallen strap of her tank top up her shoulder. “You’re right, God, sorry.”

“No, it’s,” James began. “I mean, that was nice. Really nice.”

Lily sent him a wavering smile over her shoulder. “Yeah. Sorry about—” _the paint. Everything._

She watched James out of the corner of her eye as he passed his hand through his hair a few times. This time, he came to stand beside her as they worked quietly.

It only took Lily a few moments to not be able to stand it any more. The feeling of him so close, of _wanting_ him the way she did. He was gentle. He kissed in a way that made her want to melt. He had made her laugh, that night that they spent together, in between those kisses and gentle touches.

“Why did you ask me to do this with you, James?” Lily said. “I mean—aren’t you mad at me?”

James didn’t respond for a moment, but finally turned.

“What, we can’t be friends?” he asked.

“I wasn’t very nice to you the other night,” Lily said, and then groaned. “And—I mean, I feel _awful_ about it but…you understand, don’t you?"

“I’m not here to tie you down, Lily,” James said, eyes firm behind his glasses. “If that’s what you think friends do…I don’t know what to tell you.”

“You’re not my _friend_ ,” Lily burst out, and then covered her eyes. “I mean—you _are._ But you’re…”

“It’s fine, Lils,” James said. When Lily looked up, he was shaking his head and stooping to dip his brush again. “Really, let’s just…let’s paint and tan. I’ll get us some sunscreen.”

“James—”

“You kissed me and then you said we weren’t friends. Forgive me if I’d rather stay where we are than go farther or backwards into those two territories that you seem to not want.”

Lily blinked.

James glanced at her, then away. “I should probably be asking you to leave. But I don’t want to lose you. Not yet. Not now, not if you really think that’s so inevitable.”

Lily stared at him. He was looking resolutely at his work, jaw tight. He looked beautiful, even when he was sad and overwhelmed. Lily was so angry at herself.

She didn’t want to lose him, either.

She timed her paint strokes to his, and they worked beside each other quietly.

~

Saint didn’t find what he expected to find.

Instead of Logan coming up the path, Luke Deveaux passed right by his car and open window.

Luke looked down in passing, probably expecting to see an empty vehicle, and then did a double take when, instead, he found Saint sitting there, _Frankenstein_ in one hand, balanced on the steering wheel, and the other elbow resting out the window.

“Hello, tweedle,” Saint said.

Luke stopped walking. He had a gray t-shirt on with a large, navy Nike swoop on it, and black running shorts. Earbuds dangled around his neck, tangled in the two fine gold chains that hung there and trailing all the way into his pocket, where Saint could see the weight of his phone. He was sweaty, as though he had run here from Godric.

“What?” Luke said.

“Bad move,” Saint replied. “Taking your hit from The Shining twins.”

Luke just stared at him. He pushed his sweaty hair out of his eyes. Saint smiled. He liked Deveaux when he was caught off guard. This had never happened before.

“Well—” Luke began. “You’re here, too.”

“Not like that.”

Luke narrowed his eyes. “You said you didn’t deal.”

“I don’t.”

“So,” Luke’s eyes flit around the Jeep’s exterior. “You just sit in junk cars and read—” Luke looked forward. “Shelley?”

Saint frowned in approval and squinted back towards the house. “You say that almost as if you’ve read it.”

“I have.”

“What, in your ninth grade book report?”

“No, with my—” Luke turned his head away, mouth clamping shut.

“I see,” Saint said after a moment. “A bit of a strange parental bonding choice, but all right.”

“Fuck off,” Luke said. “And what the fuck did you call me?”

That was when Saint spotted Logan. He sat up and unlocked the Jeep doors with a click.

“Get in,” Saint said.

Luke scoffed. “Fuck off.”

“That’s the second time you’ve said that in five seconds. _Get in,_ tweedle, or I’ll tell your mother about your candy addiction.”

To Saint’s slight surprise—he was used to people being drawn to him—that seemed to work and Luke complied, but he walked slowly, distrustfully, around the bonnet before sliding into the passenger seat.

Logan was coming up a different path, one stemming from the back of the house to what looked like a side door.

“She wouldn’t care,” Luke said as he slammed the door.

“You in my passenger seat says differently,” Saint said, and glanced at Luke’s wrist. “Nice watch.”

It was gold and glittery. It looked like it had probably been his father’s, and by no means looked like it should be worn on a run.

“Your car smells like wet dog.”

“I don’t have a dog,” Saint replied, eyes on Logan. He had knocked and was waiting now.

“I was talking about Black.”

Saint glanced at him. “You’re _funny,_ Galileo.”

Luke just shook his head, bringing his t-shirt up to wipe his forehead. “Stop calling me tweedle—you think I’m dumb?”

Saint laughed. “No.”

“All right,” Luke put a hand on the door. “I’m getting out.”

“ _No_ ,” Saint said, and grabbed Luke’s arm, fingers wrapping around his wrist. “Stay here or you’ll blow this for both of us.”

Luke shook him off and Saint pushed his door open. He began his stride up towards the house without looking back. He wondered if Luke was a snoop. The thought made him smile.

Logan saw him when he was half-way to the door, and rolled his eyes, shoving his hands out in an effort to silently say _go back._

“Hello, number ten,” Saint said, leaning beside the door. “Now, who are you waiting for?”

“Saint, don’t.”

“Look, I’m hoping it was me, and if so, your ride’s here.” Saint narrowed his eyes. “Let’s go.”

“What do you care if I’m here?”

Saint looked at Logan’s backpack, the one that was always filled with Crucio. Even at the sight of it he imagined that he could feel the sweet, sleepiness that occupied his nights at the orphanage.

The door opened.

“Oh, look,” Amycus said, resting a hand on the door. “Haven’t seen you in a while. What is it you’re calling yourself these days? _Saint._ ”

“Hello, Amy,” Saint smiled. “Nice to see you, we’re going now.”

“You can’t,” Amycus snarled. “He owes us.”

“I’m sure you haven’t lost that much,” Saint said back evenly.

“Oh yeah?” Amycus laughed. “Why don’t we take a look at green-eyes here’s subconscious. You want something bad enough, you like something enough, something _feels_ good enough, then there comes a point where you don’t even know how far you’ve gone to get it. How much Felix have you taken, do you think, Tremblay?”

Logan just looked down.

“See?” Amycus cocked his head. “He doesn’t know. Which means _I_ make make up whatever number I like.”

Saint nodded, thoughtful. “Interesting. What number is that?”

Amycus just grinned. “Your friend here will know when I tell him.”

“Bullshit,” Logan snapped, and Saint held up a hand.

“We’re going now, and you know what?” Saint leaned in. “You don’t know shit about what he wants.”

“Come back without your handler, Tremblay,” Amycus called after them.

Back at the car, Saint could see Luke reading _Frankenstein_ through the windshield.

“Who’s that?”

“Who you got your two hundred bucks for,” Saint murmured.

“What about the two hundred more you just cost me?”

“You’re welcome,” Saint said, and motioned to Luke to get out.

“And what exactly was I supposed to get out of this?” Luke said, crossing his arms.

“A chit-chat with yours truly,” Saint replied. “Logan, get in the car.”

Logan glared, but took Luke’s place in the passenger seat.

Saint slid back into the driver’s side, took Logan’s backpack from him, and slung it into the back seat.

“Oh,” Saint leaned out his window. “And I’m sure you can go right up now.”

“I’m sure I can,” Luke tossed Saint the book. “Don’t forget Potter’s book. Did you steal it, or what?”

If only he knew, Saint thought.

“Bye, Luke,” Saint called as he turned out of the grove and down the street. He looked in his review mirror and smiled at the sight of Luke standing, framed in it. Then, he put his arm lazily on the steering wheel and let Luke’s golden watch flash in the sunlight on his wrist.

“You didn’t have to fucking— _fetch_ me,” Logan grumbled.

“Yes, I fucking did.”

Logan turned towards him in his seat, and for a moment Saint thought he was going for his backpack, but Logan just looked at him.

“Look,” Logan said.

“I’m driving.”

Logan ignored him.

“There’s a treasure,” Logan said instead. “Leo told me about it. He thinks his dad knows where it is—The Cradle? Look, I—If we can get it—”

“Oh, good,” Saint sighed. “He sells Crucio _and_ he’s a Voldemort tourist.”

Logan blinked. “You know about it?”

Saint scoffed. “Of _course_ I know about it. Everyone knows about it, Logan.”

“Fine, but—if we can get it, then I can pay off—”

“I’m sorry, excuse me, _excuse_ me,” Saint held up a hand, one on the wheel. The houses went from the tall mansions of Salazar to the workshop rows of Helga, to the low houses of The Hollow. “Did you or did you not just place all of your hopes of freedom on a long lost, legendary _treasure_.”

“Bash—Saint.”

“Answer the question.”

“It’s not my hope, it’s just an option.”

Saint just shook his head. “I don’t know what to tell you.”

“Come on,” Logan urged as Saint stopped the car in front of The Lion. “Isn’t there something you want? Something that much gold could get you?”

“Come to think of it, there isn’t that much I want, no.”

Logan paused, and then said, “Then, is there something you hate?”

When Saint didn’t reply for enough time, Logan took his backpack and got out of the car.

_~_

Sirius had dreamed about his little brother last night. Only, he had been on _Wolfsbane,_ and Regulus had been on shore. There had been someone else in the boat, too, someone expertly pulling the ropes and taking Sirius farther out to sea. The wind had been warm.

Sirius had woken up thinking about Remus Lupin.

His entire day was thrown off.

Sirius looked over at Saint. “Are we going to talk about it?”

Saint had his head in Dorcas’ lap and his eyes closed. “Pardon?”

Dorcas and Sirius glanced at each other. “Logan.”

“We were at Saint Clair together. What else is there to say?”

“Maybe how he got out.”

“And why,” Dorcas added, running a hand through Saint’s hair. “It might help if you talked about that place more.”

“I’m good, thanks.”

Sirius groaned. “Saint. Come on, that kid looked freaked talking to you and then he bolted. What’s up?”

Saint sighed, his face opening up into a rare moment of softer eyes, and he sat up, nearly facing away from the both of them.

Sirius listened to the crickets outside. Before, he had just wanted to _know_ about the orphanage. Now, he wanted Saint to not have to keep it all inside.

“When I arrived when I was five, Logan and Finn were already there,” Saint said finally. “And its not like its this horrible place. We have beds and food and we go to school together. We have friends. But we’re also locked away. The nuns are strict. The punishments are old-fashioned. A slap. A few days in solitude. The problem is…”

Sirius got up from his perch on the window and sat beside Saint on the ratty old couch they had dragged in. Saint didn’t look at him, but let him and Dorcas lay gentle hands on him, Dorcas’ on his back, Sirius’ one of his crossed ankles.

“I watched kids turn eighteen,” Saint said, voice steely. “And they’d be packing their bags and then—unpacking them.”

“They,” Dorcas began. “You mean they decided to stay?”

Saint just shook his head slowly. “I still haven't completely figured it out. I think—maybe Crucio has something to do with it. It’s the only thing I can think of that would make them stay. I keep having this—this memory of being so tired at night. And these dreams.”

“The plant Crucio is made out of has Melatonin in it,” Dorcas said, brow creased. “It influences the dreaming. The hallucinations.”

“So, what?” Sirius asked. “They stay for Crucio, you think?”

“They work some,” Saint said. “Around the island. But, yeah. They stay.”

“You think they’re bringing money back?” Dorcas asked gently. “To the orphanage?”

Saint shrugged. “I told you. I haven’t completely figured it out. But I’d rather figure it out from the outside. Even when I was seven, I knew something was wrong. But I was older when I arrived. Finn and Logan had been there since they were too young to recognize something like that. They didn’t know anything else.”

“And…you do?” Sirius asked faintly. Saint had never brought up remembering anything about his prior life, his family.

Saint laughed faintly and got up. “Who knows. That’s the thing about memories, right? We tend to make them worse, or make them better.” Sirius watched him go to the sink and turn it on and off. He opened the refrigerator and then closed it. Finally, he stilled.

“But I hate them,” Saint said, almost to himself. “I hate them for making anything feel real.”

Sirius opened his mouth to respond when Dorcas’ phone lit up with a loud ping.

She picked it up. “From Marlene. Apparently we’re invited to a movie night at Potter’s house.”

“Of course we are,” Sirius sighed, and got up and wrapped his arms around Saint from behind. “What do you feel like?”

Saint looked at him over his shoulder. “Well, how could I _ever_ pass that up?”

~

When Logan didn’t find Leo at The Lion, he went to the Knut’s workshop instead. He’d been in there a handful of times now. It was a crowded room, walls-to-ceiling tools and cupboards that organized different found objects. Sea-glass and shards of blue china. There was large glass jars of things like compasses or pieces of weather vanes hanging by woven rope plant holders from the ceiling. There was a forge that was cool now, and there was a long work bench.

He found Leo on the work bench with the garage door open to the street, shirtless and welding something together.

“Oh,” Logan said instead of announcing himself.

Leo looked up, then back down, sparks flying around him. “Hey, what’s up?”

Logan walked a few steps inside and set his backpack—which was still empty—down.

“I want to help you,” he said.

The sparks stopped and Leo pushed his welding mask up. He was sweaty, his cheeks flushed from the heat. “What? With this?”

Logan rolled his eyes and walked in to straddle the other end of the work bench. “The treasure. We need to find the treasure. Think how rich we’d be.”

Leo stared at him for a long moment, then took his mask off and set his equipment down. For a moment, his face looked thunderous. Logan thought he was about to tell him to get out, but the storm dissipated.

“This isn’t a joke to me,” Leo said evenly after another pause. “And it’s not some greedy game, either. That’s not why my dad looked for things like this. He loved history.”

Logan blinked. “You—you don’t want the money?”

Leo rolled his eyes. “Of course I do. What do you think the finder gets?”

“Then what are you saying?”

“I’m saying don’t make me regret telling you. I’m saying my dad was never one to just pawn things off. He wanted things like that on display, for people to learn from.”

“How very, _very_ noble and grand,” came another voice, and they both looked up to see Saint standing there. He had changed since the last time Logan had seen him. He was wearing a t-shirt that said _New Orleans Saints._

“Saint?” Leo said.

“Hi there,” Saint gave a little salute. “I have a movie night to go to, apparently, a nice little _godly sleepover_ , but I thought I’d stop by.”

“What are you doing…” Logan began warily.

“Well, come to think of it, there _is_ something I hate.”

Leo tilted his head. “What is he talking about?”

“Not to mention,” Saint continued, and touched the bottom of the hanging compasses. He studied one, then looked at them and grinned.

“I do like gold,” Saint said.


	7. part vi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: mentions of drugs, mentions of being drugged, mentions of death of a father, mention of blood

**_PREVIOUSLY ON RELIC KEEL_ **

**_Dorcas meets up with Marlene at Marlene’s house and Luke is there—we figure out Marlene and Luke are cousins. Luke, as it turns out, has a neglecting mother (as well as a father who has been taken to jail, Marlene’s father doesn’t want her dating Dorcas because she’s from Salazar, and Marlene still hasn’t told Dorcas that she got into college._ **

**_Saint goes to wait for Logan at The Carrows in Salazar, where he restocks his Crucio supply._ **

**_Lily and James are painting one of the Potter’s old boats together. Lily is confused and frustrated—and in love with James. James, already hurt and trying not to cause himself further harm but also not wanting to lose Lily entirely, lets Lily kiss him but ends it there. They’re both nervous about college._ **

**_Instead of Logan, Saint runs into Luke first, who, as a last resort, is going to the Carrows for Crucio. Luke seems to have some surprises up his sleeve—a love for books that Saint shares, perhaps. When Saint does spot Logan, he makes Luke get into his car so as to not alarm him, and steals his dad’s gold watch in the process._ **

**_When Saint goes to fetch Logan, they run into Amycus Carrow, who tells Saint that Logan owes them for using their stash of Crucio without paying—but they won’t tell Saint or Logan how much Logan owes._ **

**_As a result, Logan gets it into his head that he can pay off his debt if he finds the treasure of The Voldemort, the one that Leo’s dad died looking for. Logan tries to get Saint to help by asking what he wants most, and when that doesn’t work, asking what he hates. Perhaps Saint is one for revenge, rather than need._ **

**_Sirius and Dorcas finally get Saint talking about Logan and his time at Saint Clair. Saint reveals that there were harsh punishments for bad behavior in Saint Clair. He also reveals that, for reasons he can only guess at, when kids turn 18, the age at which they could leave the orphanage, they decide to stay. Saint believes Crucio has something to do with it. He has memories of being extremely tired at night, and having vivid dreams—he doesn’t say what these dreams were about. Saint believes that many of the kids, if they arrived young enough, don’t know how to tell the difference between a Crucio-filled mind and a Crucio-free one. The scene ends with them receiving an invitation to a party at James’ house._ **

**_Logan finds Leo at his family’s workshop and says he wants to help him find The Voldemort. Leo wants to finish his father’s work, Logan needs the money—Saint shows up, seeming to have found his motivation, too, whatever it may be._ **

~

In his dream, Finn was in a house. There was a woman sitting at the table, a man at the stove, and a boy leaning against the counter. Everything was murky at the edges, even their laughter.

Finn knew what family was. He’d read about it. He’d thought about it. With Logan, he’d felt it.

What he didn’t know, what he could never be sure of, was whether he’d seen it. What it looked like. What _his_ looked like. Every time he thought he did…he’d wake up.

They had begun as pills— _vitamins_. But pills could be kept on the tongue.

Powder couldn’t be kept from food.

 _Finn, sweetheart,_ the woman said in his dream. _How was school today? Is Logan still coming over for dinner?_

 _Your boyfriend,_ the other boy teased, smiling. The man turned from the stove and laughed, reaching over to tussle Finn’s hair.

 _Yeah,_ Finn heard himself say. _He is._

He looked at the woman—his mother, maybe—and she looked different than she had a moment ago.

 _We can play pick up_ , the brother said—but he wasn’t anymore. There was a sister, and now a brother again, now two brothers. And then his mother was at the stove and his father coming in from the yard, and then there was a younger sister sitting on his lap, and then he was the younger brother and his dad was coming home from work, briefcase in hand, closing the front door, giving his mother a kiss—

Finn woke up. His throat was dry and his eyes were, too. He used to wake up crying when he was younger. And Logan had been there, both of them not understanding.

Finn didn’t know if Logan understood now. Finn hadn’t figured it out until after he’d gotten Logan out, not entirely. Not about the Felix. Just about the kids that weren’t leaving. Something was keeping them here, and all he had wanted was to protect Logan and himself from that. Now that he knew that it was Felix that kept them here…Finn couldn’t see why they wanted it so bad. He didn’t want these false glimpses of family. He didn’t want Felix. He wanted Logan. Logan was real. His only comfort was that Logan was free of it. Of this place.

Finn blinked slowly up at the walls of the solitary room. His eyes were heavy. His head, his limbs. He hadn’t eaten anything in almost a week now.

And the dreams still came.

Maybe it wasn’t anything but his own head that was doing the imagining now.

He knew what was real, and this wasn’t it.

~

Luke looked across the deck at his mother in her lounge chair and pinched the Felix, within a small plastic bag within his pocket, to make it sift back and forth. A sound only he could hear. That, and the ice cubes in his mother’s whiskey. The sun was hot on his bare chest, drying the water droplets left from the pool quickly. He couldn’t stop rubbing the place where his father’s watch had been. Just thinking about it, about Saint and his quick fingers, made him snarl.

His mother’s ice cubes rattled.

“I want to start going through your father’s things,” she said airily from beneath her floppy sun hat. “There’s just so much of it. His papers, and all those fat books he has. God, that stupid treasure obsession.”

“It wasn’t stupid,” Luke replied as evenly as he could. “And he’s not _dead_. He’s coming back.”

His mother laughed. “Oh, sweetheart.”

She had cut her hair very short after Luke’s dad had been taken away. Luke couldn’t get the images out of his mind. _Her_ , walking back through the door the next day, with her long blonde hair cut to her chin, curling just beneath her jaw. She had smiled at him and given her head a shake. _Like it, mon lumière?_

My light, she called him. When he was little she’d kissed him goodnight with that nickname every day, turning on the small nightlight that he kept—he still kept it. He’d tried not to, but every time, every night, the dark was just too dark. He was almost mad at her for giving it to him in the first place. If he had just gotten _used_ to the dark…maybe he would be more prepared now.

Since his father, she’d been moving about the house like nothing had changed. Or, rather, like something had changed, and she was all the better for it.

His father’s leather chairs were gone from the living room, replaced by two baby blue couches that made Luke sick to look at. The pirate ship wheel was gone from the wall, too.

Luke didn’t know this mother.

Not even the island knew this woman. They knew the bake-sale-bringing, strict-rule-making, no-nonsense-grounding mother that Luke had known his entire life. He’d spent so many nights furious in his room after she’d caught him sneaking out or drinking.

And now, here his mother was, offering him a glass of whiskey at eleven in the morning.

Luke pinched the Felix between his fingers more harshly.

“No, thanks,” he said, and squinted back out towards the ocean.

“If you’re sure,” his mother said. “Well, I just said so because I’m tired of looking at it all.”

“Don’t get rid of it,” Luke said, trying to keep the pleading out of his voice. “I like his office. Mom, it reminds me of him.”

Luke had spent hours in there, laughing with his father, talking about history and literature, sneaking the rare puff on his cigar.

Then, they had taken him away, and his mother had gotten a hair cut, and suddenly Luke didn’t know anything anymore.

“Excuse me,” Luke mumbled, and left his mother in the sun with her drink and the pills that were no doubt already within. She was getting high more than he ever had now.

Luke could barely see anything inside the house after the bright day outside, but he didn’t need to see. He could have found his father’s study, and everything in it, blind.

He was still damp when he sunk down shakily into his father’s desk chair, the plush leather smelling of cigars, and took the bag of pinkish powder out of his pocket.

Just to see him again.

Just for something else to have happened.

Just not this.

~

Remus met Sirius in James’ kitchen again. The large glass doors were flung wide, opening out onto the porch and the pool beyond where a projector and screen were set up, along with chairs and blankets. Lily had set out the floating lanterns that the Potters put in the pool during their dinner parties and they floated idly back and forth in the evening breeze, giving out a soft yellow glow to mix with the dusky blue that came in from the ocean. The palm trees leaned over the house’s surrounding gate, swaying.

The counter between Remus and Sirius was covered in food. Pizza and nachos from Thomas’ family’s restaurant, chocolate chip cookies, chips and salsa, sodas and liquor.

“If you’re gonna do it, do it in the house,” Mrs. Potter always said.

Sirius looked the same, but fresh out of the ocean. His dark hair was damp, dripping onto the collar of his faded t-shirt. He looked like the ocean had the same effect on him as it did on Remus. Sirius’ eyes looked brighter. His shoulders looked more relaxed. He looked up from where he was pouring some whiskey into a cup and even managed an easier smile than usual.

“Hey,” Remus said, taking a paper plate from the stack. “How’s it going?”

Sirius’ eyes found his, then he looked down, stoppering the bottle. “Pretty good, you?”

“Pretty good,” Remus said, and then took a breath before testing the waters. “Had a nice sail this morning, clocked a shift at the museum, can’t complain.”

Sirius glanced up quickly, and Remus suppressed a smile as he loaded his plate.

“Oh,” Sirius began. “I mean, yeah, I saw.”

“You like sailing?”

Sirius nodded. “Kris lets me take one of his out sometimes.”

“Kris?” Remus questioned.

“Oh,” Sirius cleared his throat. Remus watched some of those ocean washed walls begin to go back up. “Yeah, he runs the boat rental shop over in Rowena. I guess you wouldn’t know given that you have…you know.”

Remus tried to side-step the awkward shift. Sirius seemed to have ideas about him already. Remus wished he had some clue about Sirius, beside his ocean-eyes and guarded expression.

“Well, that’s cool of him,” Remus said.

Sirius nodding from over the brim of his cup. “Yeah, it is.”

“Hey, well—” Remus shrugged. “I mean, I’m sure you do it on your own all the time but…you know if you ever wanted to…”

Sirius raised an eyebrow. Remus hadn’t finished his sentence.

“I mean, if you ever wanted to,” Remus began again, and was suddenly nervous. Sirius didn’t even like him. It looked as though he didn’t like Gods in general. He’d probably think this was charity. He’d probably hate Remus for offering. “Go out.”

Sirius’ eyebrow raised further.

“On my boat,” Remus said, all in a rush. His cheeks were hot. “Go sailing on—my boat.”

Remus didn’t know what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t for Sirius to do nothing at all. He stood there, frozen and off guard.

“Only if you want,” Remus said hopelessly. “I get up pretty early.”

“So do I,” Sirius said, and there was the slap of flip flops from behind Remus.

“Look who I found at the kid’s table,” Saint’s voice came, and he leaned on the counter beside Remus in his tank-top and shorts, taking a nacho off of his plate. “Hello, Remus Lupin. You’re looking flushed. Sirius, are you making him blush?”

“Um,” Sirius said.

Remus just shook his head and reached for a soda. He felt idiotic, and now more so, after being interrupted. He could hear the others talking and laughing over the movie and wished he was over there—wished he hadn’t tried to hit on Sirius Black, of all people. He didn’t know if Sirius liked men. He didn't even _know_ Sirius.

“Re, Saint, Black, _someone_ bring me back a drink!” Marlene’s voice came over the chatter. She was tangled with Dorcas on one of the blankets, leaning back into her chest.

“Why do you look like you’ve done something?” Sirius said, drawing Remus’ eyes back to him.

“Well, I haven’t yet,” Saint replied. “But just watch.” He leaned closer to Remus. “Fruit-Loop, I need you to get me into that museum of yours.”

Remus looked at him warily. “How do you know I work at the museum…”

“A friend,” Saint said.

Remus looked at the hand Saint was resting his chin on. He was fairly sure that was Luke’s father’s watch.

“ _Get_ you in?” he asked. “Why not just go?”

Saint looked at him like he was entirely put upon, like he couldn’t believe Remus hadn’t caught on yet. “ _Because_ I don’t think what I’m looking for is _on the floor_ , as they say.”

“Saint,” Sirius said incredulously. “What…what?”

“Can you help?” Saint looked at Remus. “You know, I could just take it.”

“Let you take something from the museum?” Remus laughed. “ _No._ ”

“Fine,” Saint sighed and pushed up from the counter, taking Remus’ plate from him and beginning to walk away. “I was just giving you the option to make this a little easier.”

Remus stared after him, then looked at Sirius, who shook his head before Remus could even ask.

“No idea,” Sirius said.

~

Saint didn’t actually know that many movies.

The movie theater was fine, but old. Grimmauld didn’t have a TV. It definitely didn’t have a large projector screen and James’ laptop. There was dancing on the screen. The actors were some place warm. He didn’t recognize it.

Books, on the other hand. Books, he knew.

He spied Luke resting on his forearms, long legs stretched in front of him on a blanket near that back of their group, and smiled.

“Deveaux,” Saint said as he sat down, placing the plate between them. “Pleasure to see you again.”

Luke rolled his eyes. “Oh Jesus, who invited you.”

“The peace keeper named James Potter,” Saint replied. “Not sure what sort of peace he thinks there is to keep. I, for one, think he’s made it all up in his head.”

Luke grabbed Saint’s wrist, the gold of his watch beneath his rough palm.

“This is mine,” Luke said. “You little thief.”

“Is it?”

“Saint,” Luke’s eyes were dark in the dying light and flickering screen. “Give it back to me.”

“What will you give me?” Saint asked, and leaned in.

Luke snarled and let go. “I’m not bargaining for my watch. You _stole_ it.”

“I steal a lot of things. Your mother has good taste, by the way. So does Mrs. Potter. Unlike some of these God mothers. Do you think they know their husbands buy them the fake stuff, and save the goods for their mistresses?”

“Fuck off.”

Saint broke part of a cookie off. “Those are your two favorite words.”

Luke just shook his head, his jaw tight and angry, eyes remaining on the screen. Saint chewed slowly.

“What’s this?” Saint asked, jerking his chin towards the screen.

He felt Luke look at him. “You don’t know?”

“I just asked, didn’t I?”

“What?” Luke scoffed. “It’s _Mamma Mia_. You’ve never seen this movie? Where the fuck have you been?”

Saint looked at him steadily.

“Right,” Luke nodded. “Fucked childhood, and all that.”

“That’s one way to look at it, thank you, tweedle.”

“What else haven’t you seen?”

Saint flicked the hand with the watch on it. “How the fuck should I know?”

Luke’s eyes followed the gold for a moment, and then he looked back out towards the others. Saint did, too, laughing softly. He could practically feel Luke trying to decide how to get the watch from his wrist.

“Irish wrist watch,” Saint whispered. “Irish wrist watch, Irish wrist watch…”

James was sitting with Lily. Marlene and Dorcas were to the side, dancing along to the music with Thomas. Sirius and Remus had followed him out of the house and were, to Saint’s surprise, sitting awkwardly beside each other. Sirius seemed to be asking about the movie, too, and Remus explaining it to him.

 _Fucking Gods,_ Saint thought as he looked around at the glowing pool, the mountain of food in the kitchen. _Fucking Gods and all their careless lives._

He wondered if maybe he should have brought Leo along, if his sob story about his dad might have gotten Remus to help.

 _Remus works at the museum_ , Leo had said. _Me and Logan heard him say, him and Layla—her family owns it. If there’s any chance of seeing another copy of that map, it’s the History Museum._

“I’ve never seen you be quiet for this long,” Luke’s voice interrupted.

“You’re the one who ruined it.”

Luke reached between them for the plate and plucked up the other half of Saint’s cookie. “I was just saying.”

“I’ve never seen you not glower for this long—oh, there it is.”

“Give me my watch back.”

“For what?”

Luke paused, then said, “Books.”

That made Saint look at him. Luke’s eyes were on Saint’s wrist, but Saint remembered him in the car, reading James’ copy of Shelley. Saint felt stormy again, a familiar building in his chest that always simmered.

“Excuse me?”

“Give me my watch and I’ll give you—”

“So, you _are_ bargaining.”

“You seem to like hand-outs,” Luke bit back. “You take books from James, don’t you? Not to mention this,” Luke shifted towards Saint. “You take a lot of things from people you claim to hate.”

“Ouch,” Saint said, and it really had hurt. _Waste of space._ He smiled.

“I can do you better,” Luke said. “Tell me what you want.”

“You mean your daddy could?”

Luke’s expression went cold all over. Lightning, over the strike of green in his right eye, nestled among the deep brown. “What’s his is mine now.”

Saint wondered if Luke had Crucio in his system right now. He didn’t have the tired look of it. Come to think of it, Luke never had that look, not like Logan did. He must take it at night, Saint thought. To sleep, maybe. Some people used it like that. Some people thought it let them control their dreams.

Saint didn’t think anyone could control their dreams, their wants and wishes—waking or asleep. Even if they wanted to.

“Was this his, too?” Saint looked at the watch face.

“God, just—” Luke broke off, shoulders tense, and rubbed his eyes. “What the fuck do you want? Money? Just tell me and give it _back_.”

Saint checked the time, then looked back at Luke.

“One-thirty. My bedtime. And I don’t need shit from you,” Saint said breezily, and patted Luke’s thigh before pushing himself up from the blanket.

“Saint,” he heard Sirius say faintly, but nothing from Luke, and he kept walking through the Potter’s house.

~

Sirius was almost angry at Saint. Or, maybe, he was angry at himself for wanting to stay at the Potters. He knew why he had been invited, why James had wrapped an arm around him, told him to help himself to the food, why Remus had talked to him, sat beside him, offered…well, he wasn’t sure what Remus had offered.

Pity.

At least, he thought he knew.

Though talking to Remus had felt far from pity. Remus laughed with his eyes squeezed shut, and it had taken Sirius off guard each and every time. He was angry at Remus Lupin. He was angry at him for his words when they were eleven.

_Are you okay? Sirius, right?_

As if he didn’t know Sirius’ name, and _of course_ Sirius wasn’t okay.

But now Remus Lupin was talking about his boat, and this movie, whatever it was, that Sirius had never seen, and smiling at him as though he’d done nothing wrong.

Or, at least he had been, before Sirius had followed a blank-faced Saint out of the house.

“What are you doing?” Sirius asked Saint’s retreating back as they jogged down the steps to the driveway.

Saint had merely held up something that jingled over his shoulder. The car keys glinted as much as the watch on his wrist which Sirius knew wasn’t his own.

“Taking Luke’s car.”

“Saint, come on,” Sirius sighed. “I mean—that looked pretty fucking civil. Non?”

Saint turned on him. “Oh, yes, and you could hear every word? _Non_.” Saint kicked one of the tires. “Fuck the Gods, and fuck their shiny cars, too.”

Sirius shook his head. “What’s this—museum stuff? What’s going on? Saint, just talk to me—”

“You took Lupin’s side,” Saint breezed as he chirped Luke’s car. “You don’t get to know.”

That stopped Sirius in his tracks. He took a step back. “Since when do we do _that?_ ”

Saint slammed the door, sitting in the driver seat.

“Not tell each other things?” Sirius pushed forward. “Since when?”

Sirius watched him through the rolled down window as he ran his hands over the dark leather of the seats, the shiny black of the dash.

“There’s a lot you don’t know,” Saint said softly. “There’s a lot _I_ don’t know.”

“What do you want from the museum?” Sirius tried again. “Is this about…Saint Clair? Logan? Ever since he showed up—”

“ _Orphan!”_ came from the house just moments before the front door blew open. Luke zeroed in on Saint behind the wheel instantly, sandy hair casting shadows over his forehead and eyes. “What the fuck is up with you and taking my _shit_?”

“See you at home, sweetheart,” Saint said to Sirius, and started the car. Luke brushed past Sirius and tugged fruitlessly on the locked door.

“ _Hey,_ ” Luke only just managed to bang on the back window as Saint screeched out of the Potter’s drive. “ _Saint!”_

Sirius watched as Luke stood there in the humid night, watching his own taillights disappear. He cursed again, running a hand through his hair, and then turned.

Luke looked at Sirius. They stayed a few feet apart in the driveway.

“Do you know where he’s going?” Luke asked, breathing heavily.

Sirius did not like Luke Deveaux.

“No,” he said, and turned back into the house to find Remus.

~

Leo looked over at Logan. They were sitting on the curb outside The Lion, waiting for word from Saint, and Logan was quiet. Not that Logan wasn’t usually quiet, but this felt different. He was picking at an old scab on his knee, taking his hat off and putting it back on again.

“Are you okay?” Leo asked, and Logan didn’t look up when he nodded.

“Is it,” Leo hesitated. “Finn?”

That snapped Logan’s head up. “How did you…”

“You said his name to me,” Leo said softly. “The first night we met. You were…” but Leo didn’t really know the word. High? Hallucinating?

“I know what I was,” Logan sighed.

“Do you want to talk about him?” Leo asked. “I mean, you don’t have to I just…I know it helps to talk about my dad sometimes.”

“Finn isn’t dead,” Logan said harshly. He took his hat off, pushing his hair back, and put it back on again.

“I know,” Leo said. “I know, I just meant—never mind.”

Leo, in a way that Logan would probably hate him for, was dying to know more about Saint Clair. Saint had been around long enough that Leo sometimes lost track of the fact that he’d escaped. Others were around the island, doing work and looking normal enough that Leo could forget about them, too.

But he couldn’t forget Logan. Logan, who was tortured and rough and missing someone in a way that Leo could _feel,_ that Leo could recognize.

Beautiful, with his green eyes and rare smiles, that Leo knew he should steer well away from. Because _Finn._ Finn sounded like—

“He’s my—” Logan began, then shook his head. “I don’t know what to say. Boyfriend sounds—small.” Logan shifted, looking at Leo. “He’s all I have. He’s all I’ve had for a long time. Since I can remember. My entire life.” Logan ran a hand over his face, and when it came away, he looked exhausted. “I’m just repeating myself, but do you get it?”

“Yes,” Leo said. “I get it.”

“And now he’s—and I’m out here, and…”

“And you want to get him out, too,” Leo finished for him. Logan looked stricken.

“He got me out,” he said softly. “When it came down to it, he chose me. But I didn’t have time to choose him. It was all over so fast.”

Leo rubbed the colorful bracelet on his wrist. _Boyfriend._ “And when you say you’re looking for him…Waiting for him…”

“I know where he is,” Logan said. “And the waiting part was a lie. I’d be stupid to wait. I need to get him. He—“ Logan swallowed. “There’s a courtyard. Where I can usually see him. But he hasn’t been there.”

Leo watched Logan’s throat bob again. He was picking at his nail beds, at the scab. Leo lay his palm over his restless fingers, and Logan looked up, eyes bright.

“He needs my help.”

“Okay,” Leo nodded. “Okay.”

“ _Lovers on the wharf,_ ” came a voice, accompanied by thumping music. Saint pulled up in a sleek looking car—that definitely wasn’t his own. He leaned out the window, grinning. “Deveaux has terrible taste in music.”

“You stole this car,” Leo said dryly. “Didn’t you.”

“Yes I did, Knut. Yes, I did.”

“Let's go,” Logan said. He sniffed and picked up his backpack.

“Who’s got shot gun?” Saint asked.

~

Remus stopped in front of the gallery heading that read _Madness On Hogwarts._

He hadn’t asked his mother about it yet. He wasn’t even sure how to ask. But, there it was. The name _Lupin_ was there. He didn’t have to look far. It was there, telling about the slow demise of the mind.

Part of Remus had always wondered when his own would begin.

Another part of him felt like it already had.

He was, after all, standing beside Sirius Black on the dark museum floor, looking for a rogue orphan from Saint Clair.

“It seems pretty quiet, to me,” Remus said. “You really think he came here _tonight_?”

“He stole Luke’s car, didn’t he?”

Remus snorted. “Yeah, but…”

“So, that’s very get-away-ish of him. I mean he blamed it on hating Gods but—“

Sirius cut off, swallowing, realizing what he said.

“It’s okay,” Remus said and smiled a little. “I…it’s okay.”

Sirius cleared his throat. “It’s just that ours doesn’t always start up.”

Remus’ tried to ease the tension. “Get-away-ish?”

Sirius just shrugged and ducked his head, but Remus thought he was maybe smiling, too.

“Why didn’t you tell James where we were going?” Sirius asked instead, shining his flashlight over a model of a great merchant ship, its sails molded to seem like they were filled with wind. Remus could practically feel it.

It was Remus’ turn to duck as they walked around the exhibits, listening. “James Potter and _sneaking_ anywhere? I don’t know about that.”

Sirius did laugh this time, and he looked almost surprised with it. “I guess you’re right.”

“Besides, he and Lily looked cozy.”

Sirius nodded. “Yeah, that’s been _almost_ happening ever since I can remember.”

“Right,” Remus laughed. For a moment it felt like they _did_ know each other. As though they had been going to school together since they were little. As though Sirius hadn’t left school one day and never returned.

“Can I…ask you something?” Remus said hesitantly.

Sirius made a non-committal sound, and Remus figured that was as good as he was going to get.

“When you left school,” Remus began, then hesitated. “Well, I guess I mean, _how_? Didn’t your parents…or the police, even…”

“My parents don’t want a son like me,” Sirius replied easily. “As far as the law goes…I’ve never been bothered. I assumed they told the Academy I was being homeschooled. When I say someone like me, I guess I mean they don't want anything to ruin their reputation.” Sirius sighed. “Whatever that may be. Otherwise, I don’t know.”

“But you weren’t homeschooled,” Remus said. “You’re in The Hollow?”

Sirius’ smile was a little challenging. “Surfing every morning. Hanging out with my friends every night. I get work where I can, but I don’t need much.”

Remus nodded. “I guess that doesn’t sound too bad. I guess you’re not going to college, then.”

“That stuff isn’t for everyone,” Sirius replied.

“Oh,” Remus began. “No, I wasn’t, like, judging, I was just—”

That was when they heard a thump and a curse. They jolted, looking at each other.

“The archives,” Remus whispered.

“He did say it wasn’t on the floor.”

Remus took off towards the back rooms, Sirius on his heels. He fumbled with his keys for a moment, then shoved the correct one into the lock and pushed the door open.

“ _Saint,_ ” Sirius panted.

Remus looked from the pried open window, to the boy peaking his head through the glass—Logan, he remembered—and then, finally, to Saint, crouched on the floor and pulling flat drawers open, one after another.

Saint just looked over his shoulder at them, flashlight between his teeth, then back to the file drawer he was rummaging through.

“If you were hoping to catch me, maybe don’t leave your big flashy car out front, Lupin.”

Remus narrowed his eyes. He hadn’t even thought of the car.

“Look, I can’t let you steal something,” Remus said.

Saint scoffed. “Look, if it means that much to you, I’ll put it _right_ _back_ , we just need to look at it.”

Logan dropped in through the window, then, hissing as he cut his forearm on what looked like a stray nail. He looked up, seemingly mindless of the blood dripping near his fingers.

“We’ll just take a picture,” Logan said. “I promise.”

“Who says I’ll let you?” Remus said.

“Because I’m _limber_ like that,” Saint said. “I can get in and out of here, and I can certainly slip through your sailor hands.”

“Yeah, is that something you worry about?” Sirius said, and Saint’s head snapped towards him. The light fell over Sirius’ face. “Being able to make the escape?”

Remus thought the words sounded menacing, at least he thought Saint thought that, but Sirius’ expression was softer. Worried, even.

“Very funny,” Saint finally replied, and his smile had a bite to it around the light. “Ha, ha.”

Saint Clair, Remus realized. Sirius was talking about Saint Clair. He looked at Logan again. Logan was watching Saint almost eagerly.

“What are you even lookingfor?” Remus asked.

There was a grunt as a third boy piled in—Leo, from The Lion.

“Leo?” Sirius said, looking between the three of them. “Jesus, Saint, what’s going on?”

“We’re looking for something,” Saint’s words were marred by the metal between his teeth. “Merde, aren’t you listening?”

“I told you _no_ ,” Remus said.

Saint pulled open another drawer. “And I told me _yes_.”

Remus and Sirius looked at each other. Remus shook his head, at a loss, and Sirius sighed.

“At least tell us what it is,” Sirius said, and went to crouch beside Saint.

Remus watched as Sirius put a hand on his back, low and firm. It was a familiar and comfortable gesture, and Remus thought Saint maybe pushed into it a little.

Remus tilted his head, looking at the soft splay of Sirius’ fingers.

“A map,” Leo said, and Saint all but hissed at him. “What? We’re not taking anything. I don’t even know why we broke in, really, we should have just asked—”

Saint took the light from his mouth. “I’m nothing if not a showboat.”

“Anything?” Logan asked, peering closer to what Saint was looking at. Saint had two papers in his hands, but he tossed them down roughly—too roughly for Remus’ liking.

Saint ignored Logan with a long sigh, and turned to Remus, bumping one of the flat drawers closed with a hip. “ _We_ are in need of a treasure map, Lupin.”

Remus blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Don’t tell me the mad-house you grew up in didn’t have tales of _The Voldemort_.”

Remus felt his blood spike, heat draping itself around his neck. “Don’t fucking—”

“What Saint means,” Leo stepped forward, eyes apologetic. “I…my dad was looking for it. He was close and…and he’s—Saint and Logan agreed to help me find it. I didn’t know we’d be doing this. They know how much it means to me—”

“If your dad’s close to finding it, why not just use his map?” Remus asked.

Leo glanced up at him, then down at the drawers. “It went down with him and his boat.”

“Oh,” Remus stuttered out. “I…”

Leo just shook his head. “I remember what it looks like. I’ll know it when I see it.”

Saint waved his hand, and Remus noticed Luke’s watch again. “What’s it going to say, Knut, _the ancient treasure lies here?_ ”

“It’s not _to_ The Voldemort,” Leo said. “It’s to a trading post, a stop point just off of Hogwarts. In the Cradle. People thought that it might have been a sort of cover operation, that maybe someone found the gold and was using it as a way to smuggle it out unnoticed—”

“So, it’s not even there?” Logan asked.

Leo splayed his hands helplessly. “I don’t know!”

Remus looked at Sirius when he laughed. “You’re kidding.” Sirius knocked Saint’s shoulder. “You’re looking for the fucking _Voldemort?_ Since when?”

“You’re the one who wants to leave this island,” Saint said lowly. “To do that you’ll need money.”

Sirius’ expression changed in the dim light. The moon was high now, and he looked silver and shadowed—and surprised.

“What?” Sirius said faintly. Saint wouldn’t meet his eye. “But you don’t want—”

Logan stepped forward, eyes still on Remus. “Look. We’re not crazy. Leo wants this for his dad, and I—I need to help someone. I told you when we met, didn’t I?”

“You said you were looking for someone,” Remus replied.

Logan nodded quickly.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Saint said and rose, turning to Logan and pointing the light towards his chest like an accusing finger. “Hold every single one of your horses. This is not about Saint Clair, and this is not about Finn. This is about your stupidity and The Carrows.”

“No,” Logan said. “This is about getting Finn out.”

“The Carrows,” Leo repeated, looking at Logan. Logan glanced at him, then rubbed a hand over his face.

“Then _help_ me with Finn,” Logan said, louder this time. “I made a mistake with The Carrows, fine, but are you going to be my next one?”

“ _No,_ ” Saint all but snarled back.

Logan shoved him, hard, sending Saint crashing back against the files, making them rattle.

“ _Hey_ ,” Sirius said lowly, and then he had a hand wrapped up in Logan’s shirt, pushing him back.

“ _Stop_ ,” Remus said, putting his hands out. “Jesus, not _here._ Maybe you all don’t give a shit, but everything in here is _old_. It’s precious.” He turned to Leo. “A map, you said a map, just tell me so we can all leave.”

Leo bit his lip, gesturing towards the drawers. “These are labeled?”

Remus nodded and watched them all warily as Leo took the light from Logan and crouched to read the writing on the drawers.

Saint and Logan were still staring at each other. Remus could practically feel some unsaid words between them. Sirius had let Logan go, but Remus didn’t want to keep the three of them in this room together for much longer.

“Here,” Leo said suddenly, and the sound of one of the rattling drawers filled the room. “It’s—oh.”

“What?” Logan asked, shoving around Sirius’ body towards the drawer. Remus followed, glancing back once. Saint and Sirius had their heads close. Sirius had his hand on Saint’s neck, and they were talking softly but quickly to each other.

Remus looked away.

The label read, _Cartography. C. 18th. Commerce Port,_ but in place of anything that the label suggested, was an index card with neat handwriting on it.

_On loan: Victor Deveaux_

“Deveaux,” Saint said, clucking his tongue. “Deveaux, Deveaux, Deveaux…”

“No,” Remus heard Leo breathe.

“That’s Luke’s dad,” Remus said. He stared at the name. “Oh. That’s…”

“What?” Logan asked. “What do you know?”

Remus shot him a look. He seemed even more on edge than a few moments ago.

“I’d sort of forgotten with everything. Everything that happened to Luke this past year, but,” Remus said. “Luke was always sort of obsessed with the treasure. Only because his dad was, though. When we got older, me and James sort of made fun of him for it, but when we were younger, Mr. Deveaux used to hide little trinkets or candy for us somewhere in the house, and then write out clues for us to work through.” Remus smiled at the memory. It was happy, and it was sad. It seemed like too long ago. “It was fun.”

“So, he has the map,” Logan said. “Can you take us there?”

“Can you relax, speed racer, thanks,” Saint snapped.

“We need the map,” Logan barked back.

“It’s almost three in the morning,” Remus said.

“All the better,” Saint replied and closed the window they had come through before opening the museum door.

“Can’t this wait until morning?”

“Luke won’t just hand it over,” Sirius offered.

Remus turned to him. “What do you care?”

“Saint cares.”

Remus blinked. Sirius was all walled up again, eyes silver.

“Lead the way, Sailor,” Saint said.

~

Luke’s house was large and pristine, but it looked abandoned somehow. Saint stared up at the white walls, the stone chimney that he couldn’t imagine ever got used. He wondered if it was as grand as the Potters’ house inside. It certainly looked that way, manicured and vast. But it lacked the warmth. It seemed to shift in the night wind.

“We can’t just knock,” Remus broke the silence.

“We should wait,” Leo said somewhat nervously.

“I’ve got this,” Saint replied, chin tilted up towards the large house’s windows. “Which one’s his?”

Remus laughed. “You’re not serious.”

“No, that’d be him,” Saint said, clapping Sirius on the back—who rolled his eyes. “Now, tell me.”

“What are you going to do, climb up the drain pipe?”

Saint shucked his flip flops into the grass. “Yes, sir.”

“You could fall,” Sirius warned.

Saint looked at the windows, set deep into the house’s frame. The rough painted sides and stray vine climbing the surface. He looked at the tilted roof. “I won’t. Now which room is his?”

Remus, behind Saint, was quiet for a long time. Saint kept his eyes forward, squeezing his hands into fists, and then letting them out again. His heart beat hard in his chest, as if remembering a memory his mind wouldn’t.

“He keeps a light on,” Remus finally sighed, and pointed. “That window there.”

The metal and stone were cold beneath Saint’s feet. The pipe was sturdy, but every time it creaked he could hear the others whisper from below. The higher Saint climbed, the more the wind picked up. He closed his eyes letting it push his hair off of his forehead. The summer night was humid, and the moon was high.

“Saint?” he heard Sirius whisper from below.

Saint didn’t respond, just kept climbing. That was how climbing worked. Maybe, if you were lucky, you could rest, but the real part was pushing through the aches and the fear.

 _What do you hate so much that you’re helping us?_ Logan had asked him in the car on their way to the museum, and Saint had said something silly, as he always did. He’d smiled. Logan hadn’t laughed, but anyone else would have.

Saint thought of Sirius’ hand, low on his back in the archives rooms.

 _But you don’t want to go,_ Sirius had been about to say when Saint told him why they needed the gold. _But you don’t want to leave._

If they had been alone, Saint might have actually told him the truth.

 _But you do_ , he would have said. If there was anything that wouldn’t be wasteful, it was getting Sirius Black off of this island and away from his own, terrified self. Saint might be a waste, but Sirius wasn’t.

Saint reached the roof and crouched, breathing hard. He could see the light from Luke’s room below him, the slates of the slight, pointed arch above the window frame. It was a short drop. He made it soundlessly, glancing down at the dark shape of the others as he swung himself onto the wooden sill. He could see the source of the light now.

It was a small bulb, plugged in low on the wall by the bed. Simple and cheap, with some sort of picture lit up. A sea shell, Saint thought. It didn’t illuminate much, but Saint could see Luke’s face. He was turned towards the window, on his stomach with an arm beginning to fall over the side of the mattress. He was bare to his waist, where the sheets pooled along his lower back.

Saint pushed at the top of the window until it cracked enough for him to curl his fingers beneath the frame. Luke didn’t stir, not even when Saint let the humid night air meet the AC, and set his bare feet softly on the hardwood floor.

Saint still didn’t know if Luke was a snoop, but he certainly knew that _he_ was.

The floor was stacked with books. They were shoved over to the sides of the walls, near the desk beside a tangle of laptop chords and phone chargers. The bedside table was littered with old water glasses and coffee mugs, clothes occupied more of the floor than the open closet. There were small, empty plastic bags littered throughout the room. Saint picked up one, looking at the few grains of remnants.

He let it flutter back to the floor.

Everyone needed to control something, or at least think they did. Saint, for one too many times since Logan arrived, let himself think about Saint Clair. They’d taken clarity from him. He didn’t know how _The Voldemort_ would get him that back—maybe nothing would. It would certainly take Sirius away, the only constant.

But everyone needed to control something. Or at least think they did. If Saint was going to be alone, he wouldn’t let it sneak up on him. Not again.

Saint was as good at tricking himself as he was at tricking others. And he liked gold. Part of him liked Luke, too. Stubborn. Mean. Beautiful. That would never change.

Saint looked down at Luke’s sleeping form. He looked younger in his sleep. He was dreaming. Saint could tell, there was a flicker beneath his eyelids. The bruise on his cheek was slowly fading, but a faint purple still graced his cheek.

“Tricky bastard,” Saint said aloud, and Luke stirred, cracking an eye open.

There it was. The sleepy look of Crucio, the haze. The lack of will, or maybe the abundance of it.

“You,” Luke mumbled. “You’re…”

His eyes flickered over Saint’s shoulder. Saint wondered who he was seeing. Saint crouched beside him and stroked a hand through his hair. Luke leaned into it. A loved one, then.

Luke blinked at him, and his expression shifted. He scrambled backwards, cursing.

“ _Saint,_ ” Luke said, blinking. Saint laughed. He sort of liked that Luke couldn’t tell if he was really there or not.

“Hello, tweedle,” Saint said, and held up Luke’s father’s watch. “I need something from you.”


End file.
